


The SCP Foundation

by goodwineandcheese



Category: Monster
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dehumanization, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Gun Violence, M/M, Medical Torture, Memory Alteration, Mental Breakdown, One-Sided Attraction, Tenma and Gillen are both suffering in different ways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodwineandcheese/pseuds/goodwineandcheese
Summary: Tenma's life is thrown into upheaval when he, along with his patient, are captured by unknown forces and taken to an unknown facility. He learns that his patient, a young boy whose life he saved, is a dangerous "anomaly", and must be contained. Unwilling to let his patient fall into the suspicious hands of this unusual "Foundation", Tenma pledges to join their cause as a medic and watch over his former patient as a member of the facility's staff. But the soft-hearted doctor quickly learns that this cold facility is not a place where he can flourish. It's only a matter of time before he unravels completely.
Relationships: Rudi Gillen/Tenma Kenzou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. SCP-5110

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to AU hell! This one is based on an RP with a friend of mine, made to be more or less the prologue. The concept of the RP was that Grimmer is an SCP and Tenma works for the SCP Foundation (and has been for a good year and a half or so); I’ve been very inspired by this AU so I decided to write about when Tenma first arrived, up to around the point that the RP starts.
> 
> -SOME BACKGROUND INFO-  
> First of all I actually know very little about the SCP Foundation universe, lmao. It’s my friend who’s got the knowledge and I’m here along for the ride so what’s in this fic is mostly based on what research I’ve done, what she’s discussed with me, and also just me making shit up. For people who are like me and don’t know much about SCP Foundation:
> 
> “SCP” stands for “Special Containment Procedures” (and also fits the motto of the foundation which is Secure. Contain. Protect.) Basically this foundation is a multinational group that finds “anomalous” weird things in the world that don’t quite adhere to normal science/logic/etc and whisks them away to be contained (hence the special containment procedures; some of these dudes don’t like to be stuck in boxes). The Foundation cares for them, and studies them, so any sapient/sentient SCP typically is not having a great time, but keeping them contained is “for the greater good”, or so the Foundation believes.
> 
> And that’s the gist! Also note that any content warnings will be placed at the beginning of a chapter, so watch out for those!
> 
> Final note! There are some SCPs that get mentioned in this fic. I do not know what they are I just picked random numbers, basically ignore any actual real SCP Foundation canon lol

Three raps at Doctor Gillen’s office door earned a tired stare from the man himself, sat tidily behind his desk reviewing the briefing note that had been left for him since SCP-5110 was first identified. The three-rap knock had taken him from his second read through with a yellow highlighter to detail points to mention to the Directors in his debriefing, but if the individual on the other side of his office door was who he expected it to be, it meant that the acquisition had been a success. He turned towards the door, setting the file down on his desk.

“Come in.” 

As expected, it was Braun, the field agent in charge of the capture and containment of 5110. He stood stiffly in the doorway, but came no further, squaring his shoulders and squaring his already incredibly square jaw.

“You told me to inform you of the progress with 5110. I wanted to let you know it has been safely contained per special instruction and is awaiting treatment and analysis.”

Rudi inclined his head, his expression otherwise unchanged.

“Casualties?”

“Sir. Two field techs took their own lives shortly after 5110’s capture. Currently it’s assumed to be a result of direct contact with the acquisition. There was...also an altercation with a medical doctor who seemed to be trying to protect it. He was rendered unconscious, but no life-threatening injuries were sustained.”

That certainly caught Gillen’s attention. A witness could be a problem. He narrowed his eyes, chest tightening, though he kept his expression neutral. “And where is he now?”

Braun’s body language showed no sheepishness or uncertainty. That meant the situation had been properly handled. “The medical wing, recovering. He hasn’t been wiped yet. Doctors are-”

“-scanning to make sure he wasn’t affected by 5110’s anomaly.” Rudi finished curtly, somewhat unimpressed to have the Foundation’s standard contact policy recited back at him, as though he didn’t know. He stood from his seat behind his desk, stepping out in front and heading toward the door. Idly he brushed Braun aside, stopping only to glance back toward him with an afterthought. “I want you to look him up. Get his file, and send the information to me. I’d like to speak with him.”

* * * * *

The medical wing was a place that Rudi very rarely visited. It came as one of the perks of his position; very rarely was he directly in contact with any of the anomalous entities housed within the facilities, except as an observer, where he was protected from any direct influence by thick glass separators. So, this place was just a bit alien to the senior staff officer. It was a long, pale blue-grey hall with a series of numbered doors. Rudi was led to the door marked 204, which was denoted as the office of one Doctor Richter, the senior medic in Gillen's division. Inside he was met with stark white walls, the scent of antiseptic, humming machines, and an individual whom he could only assume was the man that Braun had spoken of.

Lying down with a cortical imager taking readings of his brain activity was a young Asian man. He didn’t seem to be badly injured, the worst of it being a gash along his left temple. He was conscious now, and at the sound of the door opening he had immediately snapped to look toward Rudi with a set of dark brown eyes that looked terribly cautious. Richter, who had been engrossed in the readings the imager produced, only noticed a split second after that he had company, squaring up immediately.

“Sir, Doctor Gillen, I wasn’t expecting you. Is there anything I can do for you...?”

Rudi looked from Richter to the now extremely tense man he was examining, allowing both a few moments to gather their bearings. Finally he nodded. “A few minutes alone with your patient, if that can be managed.”

“Certainly. I think I have everything I need from the scan…” 

Richter made quick work of removing himself from the scene. He disengaged the cortical imager and shut down his station, heading into the hall with some mutterings about a pot of coffee waiting for him. The door was closed behind him, leaving Rudi alone with this...medical doctor. Kenzo Tenma, if Braun’s file was correct. The face certainly seemed a match; though somewhat bruised, there was no mistaking the clean, prim look of the young doctor. Rudi pulled the chair from behind Richter’s desk and set it down opposite to the man.

“I understand you were involved in a bit of a complicated situation this afternoon. I was wondering if I could have a word with you.”

Doctor Tenma said nothing. There was a slightly sharper, more suspicious look in his eye, something Gillen relatively expected. Slowly, the man sat himself up, turning so that he was directly facing Rudi with his legs hanging over the bed.

“I want to know where I am and what you’ve done with my patient.”

 _His patient._ So, he had been caring for 5110. No wonder he had involved himself. It was lucky he hadn’t been killed in the process; while unnecessary casualties were to be avoided where possible, Gillen put very little faith in the containment personnel. They were responsible for their fair share of needless harm, and the capture of potential threats came at a higher priority than ensuring the protection of bystanders. Gillen sat forward.

“You’re in Berlin, in a classified facility. Your patient is...currently being examined.”

That made the Japanese doctor tense up again, his expression turning cold. Almost hostile. 

“He’s _my_ patient. I want you to tell me what’s going on. I want to see him.”

This wasn’t going to be easy. It would almost be worth just wiping him now and getting it over with. But, he needed to know what information this doctor might have relating to 5110. He kept his patience.

“I’m afraid that’s...going to be a bit complicated. Contact with your patient is restricted, and for good reason. He’s directly responsible for the deaths of at least ten people, twelve including two from the team that apprehended the both of you. That patient of yours...isn’t exactly normal.”

The death count seemed to ease the doctor somewhat, a look of dread and concern crossing his face. His mouth fell open as though he wanted to speak, but just as quickly closed again. Whatever hostilities he’d felt before, he was at least listening now, if somewhat incredulously. Gillen took his chance.

“From what our operatives have been able to determine, your patient - “ He had to mentally check himself, ensure he was using human terminology; _5110_ was a term that this person wouldn’t understand. “-possesses some sort of unusual psionic ability. We have no confirmation as of yet - that’s what the examinations are for - but it seems to be some sort of persuasive thought transfer. A kind of compulsion. He can force those who speak with him to carry out a task. Several murders have all been linked to him; in each situation, the culprit seems clueless as to why they might have committed the crime, recalling only that a certain boy told them to. A certain boy named Johan Liebert.”

It was obvious that what he was saying was more than this doctor could accept. He was shaking his head with a narrowed stare, clearly deeply disturbed but not entirely believing of it all. Rudi continued before any questions could be asked.

“We - the organization that I work for - took your patient in to neutralize a significant threat to the public. Consider the _age_ of your patient. Ten people are dead because of his influence already, if not more. Imagine how much that threat will grow over time. I assure you, we’re not monsters; on the contrary, we’re the only thing that stands between the _real_ monsters and the general populace. This boy in your care just might turn out to be the former.” He leaned forward, looking the doctor in the eye. “I was hoping you might know a little bit more. Where he came from, anyone else he might have been in contact with. Anything. We want to avoid as much collateral damage as possible.”

The look he received was definitely suspicious, if a little less hostile. The doctor didn’t quite seem willing to accept much of what had just been said to him - understandably, when most of the world only had the vaguest awareness of the abnormalities that scoured the earth - but the allegations made against his patient held traction. At the very least as a doctor he couldn’t ignore the possibility that lives had been lost directly because of his mysterious patient.

“Nothing. There was an emergency. I was called in. I didn’t know anything about the boy I was operating on. What I understand is that the police were called about an incident and the boy was found in critical condition. He was transported to the hospital, but I don’t know by who. Myself and the other active doctors and nurses would be the only people within the hospital who came in contact with him. I can’t tell you anything else.” He paused, swallowing. Then he put on a braver face. “What are you going to do with him?”

Gillen had to hand it to the doctor; he was persistent, even in a bout of nerves. Despite everything, it seemed his dedication to his patient would not be overturned. Gillen huffed, leaning backward again.

“As I said, right now he’s under observation. What happens after that isn’t clear. He might not be dangerous; then again, he might be. We’ll be caring for him, from now on. He’ll be fed and suitably accommodated. But he won’t be leaving.”

Tenma nodded slowly, drinking it all in but keeping whatever thoughts he had on that answer to himself, unseen. He wet his lips. “And what…” he started, trailing off, voice hesitant. He blinked, letting his gaze focus sharply back on Gillen again. “What do you mean by… _monsters._ What is this place? Who are you?”

Finally, the ever anticipated question. It had taken longer to reach it this time than with most unintentional exposures. Rudi interlinked his fingers, lacing them under his chin and softening his posture.

“ _Monster_ is something of a crude term. I use it for simplicity’s sake, but I prefer not to use it at all. Many of the anomalous beings, artifacts and substances contained in this facility aren’t harmful, but they pose a threat to...what you would consider _normalcy,_ I suppose. Glitches in the reality that you know. Most of them can’t help it; some can control it, others can be controlled by external factors. But of course, some really _are_ monsters by nature. Look back on your own bogeyman stories of childhood. They’re a little more than stories, down here.”

He paused, giving the doctor a bit of time to absorb the information. He at least seemed to be understanding what he was saying, even if he didn’t seem to believe it just yet. Gillen continued, a little more slowly now. “What the Foundation aims to achieve is total secure containment of these anomalies. Both for the sakes of the general public, and our...guests themselves. We protect them from organizations that would be just as happy to seize them and their powers to use for selfish or capital benefit, or simply destroy them outright. I suppose I don’t need to tell you what could happen if world leaders had that kind of power potential under their thumbs.”

Once again, silence. It was harder to say what the doctor was thinking this time; he had such a stern look on his face, turned inward, reflecting. Concentrating, perhaps. Thinking. It was a lot to digest at once; more than most could handle. Finally, dark eyes lifted once again, shoulders tense.

“To be honest, I don’t know if I can accept that. You’re asking me to believe a lot right now. Things that shouldn’t be possible. I can’t just ignore that.”

Rudi smiled despite himself. “No, and you’re among the majority, when it comes to this sort of thing. Most people who have been unwittingly drawn into this world can’t accept it. But, fortunately for you, that won’t be a concern for very long. As soon as Richter has verified your readings, you’ll be wiped and returned to the world you remember. None of this will ever have happened, as far as you’re concerned.”

Dark eyes widened, and the doctor grew even more tense, if that was possible. His mouth fell open, a word halfway forming on his lips before they clamped shut again. Developing in that stormy gaze of his was something akin to fear. Certainly not a response Gillen was expecting. He rubbed at his temples.

“If there’s any concern you might have…”

Tenma waited, almost as though he expected there to be more to follow. When there wasn’t, he put that brave face back on, though that fearful look still shone in his eyes.

“My patient.”

He really was a doctor through and through. Gillen sighed more heavily this time.

“As I said, you won’t be able to see your patient any longer. There are too many risks and too many unknowns about him. You’re going to be wiped and released back into your old life. You’ll have no memory of him, and you’ll go on as normal. It will-”

“Then I’ll be staying, too.”

This time, it was Gillen’s turn to be stunned into silence. He narrowed his eyes, leaning forward once more, almost looming over Tenma.

“Out of the question. The Foundation isn’t in the interest of harbouring curious doctors intent on humanizing deadly anomalies. This isn’t exactly a guest-friendly establishment.”

“I won’t be a guest.” Tenma stood this time, stalking toward Gillen who, too, was quick to stand to his feet. He was not about to be threatened in his own environment. Even so, those dark eyes had such a shocking intensity to them, nothing like the nervous doe’s gaze from earlier. “You know my name, so you know who I am. You know I’m the best neurosurgeon in all of Germany. If you’re harbouring dangerous creatures like you say you are, you’ll need a good doctor when things don’t go as planned.”

He stopped just in front of Gillen, just a half a head taller, but his presence felt so much larger even than that. “I’m a doctor. My duty is to my patient, first and foremost. If working for you is what it takes to see him, then that’s what I’ll do.”

Of all the things for this ball of nerves to say, that was the _furthest_ thing from Gillen’s mind. He would be the first to say that the Foundation wasn’t an ideal place of work. Certainly not to the soft-hearted, until they could learn to harden themselves. Those were individuals that had time and training under their belt. This… _this_ was a doctor who _already_ so impulsively acted on his feelings, his desire to stay with his patient. In another life, Gillen would call it admirable; here, it was a weakness to be quashed. This doctor was offering himself up to his own nightmare and he hadn’t the faintest clue.

But Gillen also couldn’t ignore the fact that this was one of the world’s best and brightest in his field. Tenma at least knew how to sell himself, even if it was to the wrong people. Unfortunately for him, Gillen was inclined to at least… _hear_ the offer. There was absolutely no denying how useful someone like Tenma would be. It would be foolish not to take advantage of the offer being made. Even so, unlike some of his uppers, Gillen wasn’t about to accept on the spot. He wanted the doctor to see a little more of the world he had just thrown himself into. It wasn’t in the Foundation’s nature to give an inside look, but in the worst case scenario, all of what he saw here would be wiped from his memory. And in the best case, he would become an enriching factor within the medical staff, a much needed asset to the Foundation. He gestured for Tenma to sit down again, taking a seat himself.

“You surprise me, doctor. It’s not every day that we’re offered such an interesting proposal. Ordinarily, we’re the ones seeking out our staff. But before you start getting ahead of yourself, I’m not exactly in the position where I can unanimously authorize something like that. This will have to go through the facility’s board of directors. That might take some time.” He saw Tenma’s posture tense again, saw him open his mouth to speak and raised a hand to interject before anything was spoken. “If I have their blessing, I’d like to teach you a little about this place. It’s not exactly standard procedure, but I want you to know what you’re signing yourself up for before you decide to go through with it. This isn’t a decision to be made lightly. Even for the sake of your patient. This might be too much for a doctor like you.”

Despite the warning, Tenma didn’t seem fazed in the least. He inclined his head, and though he remained respectful, there was an almost cold look in his eyes.

“We’ll see.”

* * *

The board of directors didn’t take much convincing. On the contrary, they felt Gillen should have begun the recruitment immediately. That was perhaps one opinion he did not share with the facility’s elite; this was a person offering himself to a world far beyond the scope of his understanding. Gillen would much prefer to let him see just what it was he was signing himself up for. By attitudes alone he didn’t seem like an ideal match for the Foundation. Too much heart. The last thing he wanted was to make a waste out of him; a doctor who didn’t have his wits in the Foundation was very quickly killed by the system. Empathizing hearts might offer kindness and sympathy toward the entities the Foundation kept imprisoned, but the feeling was rarely mutual. Worse, it led to personal connections. Forging a connection with an anomaly was what got doctors terminated for trying to shuttle their new friends out of the facility and back into the world above.

He couldn’t say for sure, but Tenma seemed much the sort to fall prey to the system.

It wasn’t long before Gillen was able to book a room for his meeting with Tenma. The doctor was nervous, but that was expected; by now he’d come down from whatever emotional high he had been experiencing, which left him to the realization of where he was and the events leading up to his admittedly bold proclamation to join the Foundation. He sat with a too-straight back as Gillen entered the boardroom, closing the door behind him with a number of files and a thicker manilla folder under his arm. He lay them out on the desk and sat down across from Tenma.

“Let me start by saying this: I’m only entertaining this venture of yours because, as you say, you hold a great deal of value as a surgeon. We could use a man of your talents. That said, it’s important for you to know just what it is you’re getting into. If you decide to stay with us once you've been properly informed, then so be it. However, should you decide you won’t be joining us, we _will_ be purging your memory. There’s a reason that the foundation’s activities aren’t known to the public. We’re going to keep it that way.”

There was no quarrel from the doctor, whose countenance had turned severe. Talk of the Foundation was a direct reminder of the patient he could no longer care for, the very reason he was here in the first place. Gillen flipped open the first folder, turning it around to face Tenma. It contained a letter - something all new personnel had to read. It was something of a mission statement, elaborating just a little towards _why_ the Foundation “abducted” and contained the anomalies they encountered. 

“To begin, the Foundation is a global organization. This is only one facility, located just outside of Berlin, deep underground. You’ll find most of our facilities operate below the surface; it’s less likely we’ll be stumbled upon that way. It’s also something of a security measure; if there’s a containment breach, we’ll have an easier time recapturing or killing the subject than if the facility were above-ground.”

That got Tenma’s attention. _Killing…_ yes, sometimes it was necessary to terminate the SCPs, if they were dangerous enough. It was a last ditch effort that resulted in the destruction of Foundation assets, not something that was encouraged, but it was a reality of this place that Tenma would have to accept, if he was going to spend his days here. He didn’t speak up, but it was very clear he disapproved.

“I vaguely explained this to you already, but there are various… _anomalies_ around the world. Sometimes they appear unexpectedly, sometimes they’re deliberately created. Understand that these anomalies break what the general human population accepts to be reality; physics has a strict set of rules, for example. I can name, right now, more than a dozen anomalous entities that bend, break, or turn those laws inside out. It’s our objective to find and conceal them before word of their existence can reach the public. What we do here is prevent mass panic, and preserve the balance of power in the world. If a criminal organization were to get its hands on...let’s say, a knife capable of cutting through physical distance, we could have a crisis on our hands. Anomalous objects are easily subject to misuse; both at the expense of the everyday citizen, and the world itself. Those tears in physical space in my example may never be mended, or may cause other adverse effects. As such, the Foundation seizes these anomalies and keeps them in highly secure facilities like this one.”

Tenma seemed more receptive to a real example. Gillen took note of that, watching the gears at work behind sharp amber eyes. He reached for one of the files on the desk, flipping to the first page and letting Tenma have a look. Inside there was a picture - nothing especially alarming at first, but details elaborated exactly what this was; not a reality-warping knife, no, but a doorknob. A very ordinary looking doorknob, but one that - when installed into any ordinary door - opened into whatever place happened to be on the mind of the individual opening it. Once through, however, the door ceased to exist - earning it a fairly simplified description as a one-way portal. The doctor looked troubled as he read it over.

“This is an example of an anomalous artifact deliberately created by a third party. I’m sure I don’t need to explain what kind of trouble it could cause, in the wrong hands. It’s not located at this facility, but as you can see from the report, it’s been extensively analyzed by the Foundation, even at the loss of several of our own people.”

“Your own…?”

There it was again, that concern, that...fear for life. Kenzo Tenma was a competent neurosurgeon - brilliant, in his field - but the traits he had in abundance weren’t well-suited to any long term work with the Foundation. Gillen relaxed backward, eyes on the table.

“When we take these anomalies into our care, we...examine them closely. Sometimes artifacts are volunteered to us; it’s our responsibility to find out if they’re genuine, and not a...prank, or an attempt to offload an individual with undesirable characteristics on us. So, we study them, extensively. What I’ve shown you is a relatively harmless anomaly. It just happens that, as a one-way portal, it can lead to absolutely _anywhere_. One of our personnel experienced the vacuum of space, if I remember the case file correctly. Even so, it’s still one of the most harmless anomalies you’ll encounter. This is inanimate. But you’ll find we have several sapient, and even sentient, anomalous life forms detained within the Foundation. Individuals that can activate their anomalous properties at will, or who...have no choice, but to live with them.”

“And you believe my patient is one of them.”

Gillen had to give the man credit; if nothing else, Doctor Tenma had a very steady state of mind. As much as he might have been disturbed or confused by the stories and information being fed to him, his chief concern was still the patient that was now in the Foundation’s care. Gillen didn’t answer right away, moving to the manilla folder and opening it, turning it around to Tenma.

“It’s not a belief. We’re absolutely certain with this one.”

There was skepticism in those eyes, but Tenma took the folder all the same. That skepticism was quickly replaced with...confusion, or dread, or a combination of the two. Eyes flicked back up to Gillen, almost accusatory.

“SCP-5110?”

It spoke to Gillen’s time working with the Foundation that he didn’t so much as bat an eye.

“5110 is the designation your patient was given. SCP is another designation - what we call Special Containment Procedures. Until observation and testing is completed, he... _it_...is under very careful surveillance.” 

Yet another glare, this time even sharper. Gillen was deliberately cutting away any of the usual language he might use when dealing with those exposed to anomalous entities; he had been gentler before, referring to 5110 as _him_ , the young boy that Tenma saw him as. But if he _was_ going to work with the Foundation, he needed to learn the language. Numbers were not people, no matter how human they might seem. That “boy” was not human.

There was a psychology to it, of course; it was easier for personnel to accept the confinement of _5110_ than _the boy Johan Liebert._ Reclassifying such individuals as humanoid anomalous beings also made it easier to ease them into their surroundings, to accept a life where they were suitably cared for, but no longer awarded the liberties of venturing beyond the facility they were contained in, with a small number of exceptions. Gillen had written numerous papers on the psychology of it, the eventual acceptance of one’s existence as an “anomaly”, and no longer a “human”. 

“And just what...what does _testing_ entail.”

Gillen didn’t look away, despite the sheer fire being thrown his way. As calm and controlled as the doctor was, Tenma had a definite anger starting to reach a boiling point. Gillen let it roll off him all the same, unaffected; he had endured far worse.

“How we test them is dependent on the type of anomaly we’re faced with. 5110 seems to possess a type of persuasive capability. As I mentioned, it’s been named the cause of several murder cases. What we need to know is the extent of its persuasive abilities, and how external stimuli are able to affect it. We’re looking at a possibly lengthy set of experiments to be conducted over time. I imagine we may have difficulty with this one, if just speaking to it is enough to engage its anomalous property.” 

Gillen could all but feel the anger cutting even deeper, and raised his eyes toward Tenma again, unimpressed. “Did you have something more to add?”

He seemed flustered to be called out like that, but squared his shoulders, stiffening just as quickly. “Only that he...that Johan...didn’t do anything to me. I haven’t been affected.”

Gillen’s expression flattened.

“He was also unconscious while in contact with you.”

Tenma opened his mouth to utter another retort, but Gillen raised a hand. “I didn’t bring you here to discuss or debate your patient. Understand that I’m extending you a courtesy rarely considered. I had the option to accept your offer at face value and have you admitted to the Foundation as early as today, but I am trying to give you the opportunity to recognize what it is you’re signing up for, and what you’re giving up. This is _not_ an ordinary occupation. If you decide to work with us, you _will_ be letting go of everything you know. You will adhere to the Foundation standards and procedures set out for you. If you can’t set aside your own rules and moral inhibitions, you may not like it here.”

That seemed to quiet the man, whose shoulders sagged and head nodded quietly, an indication for Gillen to continue. He took it freely.

“I’ve shown you a few examples now of just what it is we’re dealing with. _Who_ we’re dealing with. You understand _why_ we have to keep anomalies hidden. What you might not realize is that, with only limited exceptions, those of us who choose this life _will not_ see the world we grew up with again. Not until our contract is terminated, or _we_ are terminated. I myself have been working with the Foundation for nine years. I haven’t been to the surface in all that time. The government sees to it we’re provided ample funding, and the facility directors ensure that money provides us with what we as humans require, but if you decide to accept a contract here, you will not see the sun. You will not return to your hospital, or your patients. The news will release information on your disappearance, and the case will be closed without resolution. As far as friends and family are concerned, you simply disappeared overnight.”

Gillen paused, sighing, his expression softening as he looked over his now particularly pallid-faced companion.

“Doctor Tenma, I respect your dedication to this patient of yours. In your position, I might be making the same calls as you are now. Just know that choosing this path won't bring you the same satisfaction that you gain as a doctor. You _will_ see things you might consider inhumane. Your new patients won’t be human, but potentially deadly entities that could kill you, if proper protocols aren’t followed. Being a medic means seeing these creatures at their lowest and most frightened. It means accepting that any injuries sustained during research procedures are deemed necessary. If you’re not ready to accept those terms...if you can’t separate these anomalies from human beings...then I advise you to step away from this. We’ll wipe your memory and send you back with no knowledge of any of the events that have happened. As far as you’d be concerned, you never had a patient by the name Johan Liebert.”

The silence that followed was...chilling, filled with uncertainty. It was clear that despite his bravado, Tenma was at least smart enough to consider Gillen’s warnings. As much as he knew the Board of Directors would bemoan it, he felt better at the prospect of letting this Tenma character go. He had too much heart in him. Staying here...he wouldn’t last two months. Gillen stood, collecting his folders back under his arm, watching Tenma slowly stand on cue.

“I have a meeting with the board of directors now that will determine just how long you have to make your decision. At best, you’ll have a few days to decide, during which time I expect you to think about what you consider to be an acceptable loss. Unfortunately, you’re in a position to lose no matter what your decision might be. Just...try to think beyond impulse, for now. This isn’t a choice to be made on a whim.” He checked his watch, tapping the screen a few times as it lit up in response to his commands. “Someone will be with you in a few minutes to escort you to your temporary quarters. Please stay here until then. Just know that if you try to leave without an escort, you won’t get very far. Most rooms require clearance to enter and exit.”

He could still feel distrust in those eyes, even as he turned to leave. But there was more; something curious and intrigued, if a little wary. His discussion with Tenma had at least left him with quite a few impressions to sort through. Just as he pulled the door open, there was a soft utterance of _Wait!_ from behind him. Gillen paused, glancing back over his shoulder. Tenma looked perplexed, troubled. He swallowed.

“I wanted to know...your name.”

Gillen’s expression remained coolly disinterested, but at least he met doctor Tenma’s gaze.

“If you decide to stay with us, we’ll have a proper introduction. But in all likelihood, if I told you now, it would just be another fact for you to forget when you return to your hospital.”

Gillen said nothing more than that, leaving Tenma to stew on those thoughts alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This really was just a big info dump but it was important to get that stuff all out the way!!! Gillen in this fic is a lil bit more unnerving than his typical canon counterpart but...by the moral compass of the foundation, he’s pretty much the nicest you get…..it would be so much easier if Tenma just decided not to be stubborn and listened to Gillen but no :/


	2. Interview

Even from the confines of his office, Doctor Gillen could hear the quiet, but steadily approaching footsteps in the corridor, empty of all sound except the repetitive, quiet shuffling of feet. The stout man did not look up, didn’t so much as turn around, busy typing his latest report into the Foundation’s personnel database. He didn’t need his eyes to analyze the approaching sound; it was light-footed, and slightly uneven - a sign of someone anxious. Certainly it wasn’t one of the Security personnel; these footsteps lacked the usual heavy thud that accompanied the thicker-framed muscle that patrolled the corridors of the facility. It also wasn’t an _absent_ sound; this individual was quiet, yes, but not deliberately so, or else Gillen expected he would have heard nothing at all. Finally, though, as he reached the third paragraph in his review, the footsteps stopped. They were replaced with a quiet cough.

“Excuse me. I was told to report to...to mister...to Doctor Gillen, when I arrived. Would he be in?”

Nervous. That was a word that characterized that voice. Gillen marked his place in his review of the report, closing the window and turning around in his chair. Standing across from him was...a particularly interesting enigma. Doctor Kenzo Tenma, the man he had all but warned away from this place, had chosen to ignore the warnings paid and stubbornly offered his services to the Foundation. Stiff as a board, wringing his hands, and pale as though he’d just witnessed death, he looked to be little more than a college boy; quite a contrast to the fire he’d shown only days ago. A fire that was borne of a strong moral compass and an overflowing heart - two traits that tended to shrivel and die in the Foundation. Gillen couldn’t decide if the man was incredibly dedicated to his patients, or simply didn’t value himself very highly. That, or he was haughty enough to believe himself able to withstand the Foundation’s nature. But, that very attitude was what he was here to assess.

Gillen narrowed his eyes, fingers laced in front of him as he looked the young man up and down. It seemed to take the younger doctor a moment before he was hit with a realization, his eyes widening, mouth opening slightly then closing again. He hadn’t forgotten Gillen’s face, then. That was something. It was a face he would be seeing much more of, if he made it through the screenings. The board of directors had decided that he would be falling under Gillen’s jurisdiction; he wasn’t keen to babysit, but at least it would mean he could keep a closer eye out. That attachment to his patient could easily lead him into trouble.

“The door.” he muttered, staring the young man down. For a moment, it seemed as though his guest wasn't comprehending, simply blinking at him with those wide, amber eyes. Gillen gestured with the flick of a wrist. 

“Close the door and take a seat, please. I’d like to begin.”

Tenma hesitated, then did as asked, pulling the door closed behind him, his body language firming up. Evidently realizing who he was faced with was bringing back some of that caution, but it was already too late; Gillen had seen through it for the exposed nerves he wore on his sleeve. To his credit, he was quick to harden, taking a seat opposite to Gillen and squaring up.

“That's your name, then. Doctor Gillen.”

The earlier polite - even eager - tone was replaced by something a little more familiar. A performance, then. Gillen wondered how much of the nervous youthfulness had been genuine. Or inversely, how much of the severe, flame-tempered person he met days ago had been an act.

“That’s right.” Gillen said it frankly, but eased up after a moment, relaxing his shoulders. He glanced back toward his somewhat high-strung companion with a faint, wry thing of a smile. “It seems you got your wish, doctor. To be completely honest, I wasn’t expecting you to stay.”

Tenma, ever stubborn, didn’t look away. He also didn’t _give_ much away; right now he was guarded, and doing a decent job of defending himself, but unfortunately it wouldn’t last; this was not any ordinary sort of interview. The Foundation was not an ordinary organization. He needed to know that this person could _endure._ In effect, he needed to see inside Tenma’s mind, to pick at the very fabric of his inner self.

It was, in fact, Gillen’s proficiency at breaking down the walls of a man’s psyche that had earned him his reputation and, eventually, his right hand seat with the board of directors. He presided over these interviews almost exclusively. If he were to be honest, it was one of his favourite parts of the job; there was something - perhaps erring in morbidity - that he found fascinating in the process of watching the human mind unfold. Or...fall apart, for those of weaker will. He had watched plenty of eager potentials crumble under pressure. Usually he had some idea of what might happen, when they stepped into his office. 

Strange as it was, he actually did expect Tenma would pass. He had already demonstrated a backbone, and the nerve to defend himself and his ideals. He had the _strength,_ that was no question. Even so this was going to be a...very interesting, very revealing session. 

The silence stretched, amber eyes simply staring, and it became apparent that Tenma was waiting for him to begin. Even that, such a minor thing, was revealing; many, many candidates began warmly, opening up to him in the phony businessman’s way, making the mistake to treat this like any other corporate opportunity. Tenma was reserved instead, saying nothing, waiting with a very slight look of uncertainty. He couldn’t very well be blamed for it. Gillen clasped his hands in front of him, staring into those eyes with a cool sharpness of his own.

“This is not what you might call a standard interview. The majority of what you’re going to experience will be in a state of induced hypnotism, hooked up to a neural imaging device. I can assure you that you’ll be in no danger; it may seem strange to you, but this is a standard practice, and something I’ve been doing for years. What you say and do while in this state will be in direct response to a series of questions and scenarios I pose to you. However, you may see or experience unsettling memories or images. Images that I'll be able to see reflected on my monitor. By accepting these conditions, you’re allowing me to look inside your mind. I need to be able to _know_ you to decide if you’re going to be a good fit.”

Tenma didn’t say anything, but he certainly looked tense. This wasn’t something he was very comfortable with, but the sharp look in his eye was at least an indicator that he wasn’t going to turn tail now. Even so, he had to be completely clear. Gillen narrowed his eyes, leaning forward a little, meeting that sharp gaze with a chilly one of his own. “If you’re not comfortable with any of what I just described, now is the time to tell me. This isn't a place for bravado or stubborn will; I’m going to see parts of you that you may not want to share. I need to be absolutely sure you’re willing to proceed.” He trailed off, letting his posture relax again, his gaze softening just a little - not quite so bitterly cold, but...distant, still distant. 

“Do I have your permission to proceed?”

That seemed to relax Tenma. The man visibly shrank - though not out of fear; his shoulders fell from their raised arch, and he released a breath he’d been holding for some time. He seemed to be considering Gillen’s words, and he also seemed...surprised. Though, that wasn’t difficult for Gillen to figure out; until now, he’d been relatively _told_ what to do, what he wasn’t allowed to do. The fact that he was being given a choice - even if refusal meant returning to his old life - wasn’t something he was expecting. After a few seconds, Tenma nodded, chin raising not in defiance, but with something of a dignified look in his eyes. More professional, now.

“You have my permission. Please proceed.”

He parroted Gillen’s words exactly. It was better that way; there was no room for misunderstanding, no uncertainty, and Tenma probably knew it. At least Gillen could appreciate that. He nodded, glancing back toward the closed door. 

“Good. Then we’ll begin.”

* * *

_”Name.”_

A voice. He recognized it.

_”Did you hear me, Tenma?”_

Again. There it was again. He felt foggy, strange. But...

“You know my name.”

The retort was met with silence at first, then a breathy sigh. _”Yes. You’re right. But starting with simple questions will help ease you into the right state of mind. Breaking the ice, so to speak. Name.”_

The more he heard the voice, the more it became something calming. Tenma felt like he was floating, somewhere in a dark void. He could feel it flowing, watery and weightless. That voice was the only thing that grounded him right now. He nodded, breathing slowly.

“Tenma Kenzo.”

_”Good. And your profession?”_

“Neurosurgeon. Chief of surgery…Eisler Memorial Hospital.”

_”It sounds like you have a promising career. Is there someone special in your life?”_

The blackness that Tenma had been plunged into rippled, and at once he was looking at her. She was there, smiling at him, holding out two shopping bags, asking him to carry them for her. Tenma felt obliged to answer, nodding slowly.

“Eva Heinemann. The director’s doctor. We’re engaged.”

_”The director’s daughter? That’s risky, but...if it’s working for you, you’d certainly have your life made. So then, Tenma, can you tell me where you are right now?”_

Now. The place that he was now…

The image of Eva faded away. He was back in the nothing, the empty. Weightless, until...until he landed, he could feel the chair he was sitting in. He moved his hand, moved each finger. He was aware of those sensations, too. The voice. He remembered who it belonged to. The place that he was…the office began to appear, the door, but beyond that...

“I don’t know.” The honest truth. “The Foundation...a facility somewhere outside of Berlin. Underground...”

_”Well, I suppose you wouldn’t know exactly where outside of Berlin that is. Doctor Tenma...you know where, but can you tell me why? Why it is that you’re here?”_

The voice was calming, eased him through uncertain thoughts. It was easy to speak to the voice. Tenma’s eyelids fluttered. He gripped at the chair with one hand. A hospital bed materialized opposite to him, the young boy lying asleep there. Something crashed - the door, it came open, and faceless shadows shaped like humans forced their way in. He tensed and turned away.

“My...patient was brought here. I was taken with him. I’m not...allowed to see him.”

_”Yes, that’s right. Your patient is what would be considered anomalous. Not human. That’s why you’re in this room, Tenma. You want to work here, for the Foundation, so that you can see your patient. Is that right?”_

Tenma nodded. An easy answer. He could see even through the consuming black shadows...faint flashes, what Johan looked like. A child...blonde, he had been dying. Fragile. And now he was hidden away somewhere out of Tenma's reach. The shadow veiled him completely, the boy no longer in view.

_”I already explained to you that if you decide to work here, you won’t be able to leave. You’re sure that you want to throw away that promising career and relationship for one patient?”_

Tenma felt something, a pang of guilt. A hand gripping his tightly - bony, wrinkled, a hand that belonged to someone that had desperately needed him. The flutter of his fiance’s laughter. Hurried nurses and doctors moving quickly through Eisler’s halls as they prepared for a surgery. The garden, where he sometimes took his patients for fresh air under the sunlight.

And it was all growing dimmer, darker. Disappearing, until it was gone. Was he letting go...releasing _all_ of it...for the sake of one patient? How strange that seemed. Wrong. But...there was more to it. The voice was misleading. Tenma shook his head, jaw set. The scene changed again. The hospital, a few days after the surgery. Those thugs that had come in, taking Johan away. His futile struggle to keep them from leaving. Blacking out. Being told that Johan...wasn’t human. That he was some sort of… _thing…_

“That’s not the reason.”

His voice was firmer, aggravated. This...this was far deeper than wanting to stay with a single patient over the rest. The other voice sighed again. The sound of it wasn’t as calming as before.

_”Then what’s your reason? If it’s not for the patient, then what reason to you have to make such a sacrifice?”_

Tenma felt obliged to answer, but he didn’t know _how._ His answer was a feeling, not a word. There wasn’t a simple way to describe it. He shook his head, knuckles whitening as his grip on the chair tightened. He felt his chest tighten, too.

“Principles.” He blurted the word - rough, crude, meaningless on its own. He fought the fog, sorted through the images, the image of that boy being handled. “My patient was taken away. I was taken away. He won’t be allowed to leave. Me...for me...choosing to leave is abandoning my principles. He is being unjustly imprisoned. Turning my back is showing acceptance of injustice. If I turn my back once...I’ve moved the bar. What’s moral and what isn’t. I won’t. So I’ll stay.” 

It came jumbled, confused, a little repetitive. But there was a passion in his voice, something that was building to a boil. His breathing quickened, his body tensed. He…

_”I want you to take a deep breath and relax, Tenma. We’ll continue once you’re calm.”_

That voice was working again, somehow soothing his mind, easing him into a state of complacency. Tenma could feel his shoulders relax, his breathing slow. He nodded to signify his readiness, though for what, he didn’t know.

_”You’ve given me something interesting to think about. But I've told you what this place is like. The prerogative of the Foundation is to secure and study anomalies. Wouldn't that conflict with your morals? How do you expect to deal with such an ethical shift?_

There was a real truth in those words. The images in Tenma's mind fitted themselves into new shapes again - a human one, something he didn't quite recognize but was largely human, and wounded. There was fear on its face. Tenma felt a chill, but that stubbornness of his refused to release him, and he shook his head, shook the images free. 

"I'll have to accept those conditions for what they are. I'll be bringing relief to my patients, I can take solace in that. If I can give them even an ounce of human decency, I'd be glad to take this chance. Affect change."

There was another pause, longer this time, though it felt lighter with curiosity.

 _"Affect change. That's an interesting idea you have. Then might I make the assumption that you hope to revise the way the Foundation operates, in support of your patient?”_

“For the sake of all patients.”

He was quick to reply. The question had barely been posed and he had an answer, spoken with that same sharp confidence.

_”That didn’t answer the first part of my question. Do you want to change the Foundation?”_

Tenma was...hesitant this time. The voice was calm, unemotional. There was no indication whether his honest answer would be met well or poorly. But he felt compelled to reply honestly.

“Yes.”

There was a long stretch of pure silence. For a moment Tenma wondered if he was alone. His eyelids fluttered again, and he listened harder into the emptiness for...something. What he heard was a soft exhale, almost a...half-wheezed chuckle. 

_”Well, you certainly have your work cut out for you. You’re looking at an entirely different culture here. The Foundation provides care to its subjects, but first and foremost our priority is to learn about them, to understand them, and to keep them secured. Change may be perceived as a threat. Even you might seem dangerous, if you're too bold. Knowing what it is you want from this, I have to ask; will you be able to do as you’re told? To work with people you disagree with on such a fundamental level?”_

A chill ran down Tenma’s spine. After a few moments, he nodded - hesitant, but affirmative. He knew better than to throw himself into a losing battle; if he wanted to affect change it needed to be over time. So until then he would… _force_ himself to endure. But his answer didn’t seem to convince; there was a huff from across the table and Tenma’s fingers curled in, uncertainty trying to bubble to the surface, though he clamped it down.

_”That’s good, because obstruction of operations is not an offence taken lightly. You are not the first doctor to come here with a conscience. Once, another man tried to ferry out one of the subjects to the surface. The raised stress of the situation caused its anomaly to activate, and the doctor was killed. That was within the past month.”_

Nothing further was said. Tenma was expected to answer. He...wasn’t sure what he should say; he understood what he was being warned of - that the “subjects” being held here were dangerous, that even those who seemed innocent could be dangerous. But that didn’t mean what he was being told was the norm. It was easily a scare tactic, something to dissuade the “naive doctor” from doing anything foolish.

“I understand. I won’t break protocol.”

Again there was a chuckle. His answer was honest, but he also had yet to gain any real field experience to know just what he would do in the moment. Gillen, it seemed, didn’t agree with his assertion.

 _“Well, I’ll take your word for it.”_ There was a pause. Tenma could feel a shift in the atmosphere. He didn’t like it. _“Now, Tenma, you…you seem to be a very principled sort of man. As a doctor should be. I’m just wondering now...how do you feel when you lose a patient?”_

In a way, Tenma had expected this one. Even so, his throat felt very dry. The empty black pulled away like a curtain, and he was standing in front of a young man lying on an operating table. The steady flatline tone told him all he needed to know. He recognized the face - one of his first patients, suffering from too many complications to make a clean procedure. Even he couldn't have saved that life, but with every breath he had tried. Tenma let out a slow exhale, his hands balling into fists again. He tried not to think about what he was seeing, hearing.

“There’s nothing worse.” he admitted, surprisingly open with his answer, even to himself. “It’s something I don’t forget.” 

_”But you’ve seen death.”_

“I can’t save everyone. I can only try.”

That time there was a satisfied hum. More than likely that wasn’t the expected response. Tenma didn’t much come across as a doctor who knew the look of death; he seemed an innocent minded man, but even he had experienced his share of failures. If that somehow helped prove that he had the temperament to manage in this place...then so be it. He would let those failures be exposed.

Finally, there was a satisfied sigh from across the table. _”All right. That’s enough for now. I have a few more questions I’ll want to ask you, but not now. There will be a second screening test for that. In the meantime...it’s time to wake up.”_

* * *

Two months. That was Gillen’s rough estimate. Tenma had passed the screenings, but he had also raised several red flags on his behaviour chart. Nothing that would be an immediate issue, but the doctor was both driven and morality-bound; the former would ordinarily suit him well in the field, but coupled with a stubborn attachment to the morals of the surface, it was more likely to cause trouble. It meant he had the makings of a hero complex; the need to be a saviour to the - as he would consider them - “downtrodden” aberrant SCPs locked away by the cruel Foundation. 

Even so, Gillen wasn’t worried. If he tried to rescue any of the SCPs from their containment units, he wouldn’t make it far. The guards posted at every exit were trained to manage a containment breach with cold precision; it wasn’t ideal, but in the worst case scenario, both the doctor and the subject SCP would be shot down. 

Tenma had a lot to learn about this place, if he was going to survive. Such as it was, even if a rescue attempt was made, he probably wouldn’t receive the warm welcome he might expect from a human prisoner. Doctor Tenma was naive, if he thought the SCPs to be victims. Many were deadly, and had to be handled with extreme care. The fact that 5110 had been unconscious when he interacted with it was probably the only reason he, too, hadn’t fallen victim to its power. And that was only one out of countless hundreds of aberrations. The Foundation was not snatching people at random; those that were taken had very good reason to be brought down here. And that was something he would learn - either by acclimatizing himself to the environment or getting himself killed.

Perhaps it was premature, but by his behavioural profile, Gillen had already classified Tenma as the latter. Two months. That was how long it would take before he broke. Which...was a shame, really. He could have accepted that 5110 was out of his reach and returned to life as normal. A doctor of his caliber was bound to save many more lives during his career. But he’d chosen to be stubborn. And while it meant that expertise went towards the Foundation’s goals, it really was a shame, to waste someone like that. But, it was out of his control now. Tenma had made his decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gillen is not too nice in this AU :/ And Tenma is stubborn but I get it...


	3. Growing Pains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit slow but we're getting into more actual Stuff happening soon!

It took a week, in all. Tenma couldn’t say he was impressed, left for so long without knowing if he passed or not. A part of him was convinced that the wait was just another part of this bizarre interviewing process. But in the end, Doctor Kenzo Tenma had been accepted as a junior medic of the Berlin Facility. 

At least the days in between those uncomfortably invasive interviews and the final verdict had given him time to...read. To learn. He wasn’t an “official” drone of the Foundation yet, so he had only very limited access to information - and he had to be escorted at all times, something he would be glad to be rid of - but he _was_ able to learn more about just what this Foundation really was through non-classified records.

It wasn’t that Doctor Gillen had been vague or misinforming; on the contrary, it was just hard for Tenma to take in everything being thrown at him at once. Having the time to ruminate, and to read at his own pace, made it easier to process everything Gillen had been trying to tell him. And to… _warn_ him of. 

The Foundation was a long-standing _global_ organization representing the interests of maintaining some sense of order in the general populace. Interaction with the supernatural and fringe elements tended to result in one of three things: abuse, danger or incompatibility. Danger was self-explanatory; items or beings classed as “anomalous” posed a threat to human life. It could be minor - no more dangerous than a common criminal - or a threat large enough to plunge a country into ruin. 

_Abuse_ was equally understandable, though certainly it made Tenma more uncomfortable to think about. Aberrations ill prepared to protect themselves could, and did, fall victim to human greed. From Tenma’s reading, there was at least one group listed - a black market organization that captured and sold aberrations - both living and non-living - to the wealthy and to government cronies. He recalled what Gillen had said about that - about the idea of an anomalous weapon falling into the hands of a world leader, and just how much that could alter the balance in power.

 _Incompatibility_ was fairly benign, but had destructive results if left unchecked. There were certain aberrations that simply did not comply with the natural laws of the world, or otherwise had an unsettling effect on others. While the result could be entirely harmless, it didn’t seem that was always the case; generally, though, it was an unintentional side effect on the part of an anomalous entity whose simple existence bent the laws of nature. 

Knowing what the Foundation _was_ certainly helped Tenma acclimatize to the cold, sterile environment, even as he was sent through processing to get his identification card, his security clearance approval and an official profile registry for the central employee database. Everything had an atmosphere of cold professionalism - a certain detachment from colleagues that felt alien and strange. But from what Tenma had read thus far, it wasn’t surprising.

Right now, he was due to meet the “medical chief” for his division. Though Tenma didn't know the way hierarchies worked within the Foundation, the title medical _chief_ indicated at least some amount of seniority. Tenma was hurried through the halls to locate a “room D-410” - which he had to assume was some sort of section denomination. From his little tour through getting his clearances, he’d noticed that there seemed to be several buildings conjoined through hallways and upper level walkways. They were all interconnected, but there was a defined start and end of each “building” with a letter printed up above the door frame.

D-410 turned out to be just another boardroom, but smaller and with the odour of...actually, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The sort of smell that came with an older building, but not in the dirty, mouldy way. It was recognizable and oddly comforting. He took a seat - the chairs were more comfortable, fabric cushions instead of hard plastic - and waited.

At least he wasn’t left waiting for long. 

The man that entered was tall and trim, with wavy brown hair and a proud chin. He took a look at Tenma and offered a bit of a smile, nodding and entering the room fully. He had a clipboard tucked under one arm, and reached out his hand with the other. Tenma blinked for a moment, then clued in. He stood quickly - a little bit too quickly - and shook, bowing his head a little as he pulled back once more.

“Richter, chief of medical unit C. And you’re doctor Kenzo Tenma, correct?”

Tenma nodded. It was an answer that sufficed. Richter took a seat, gesturing for Tenma to resume his. The man opened his mouth, paused, glanced behind him and sighed, standing once more to push the door closed, muttering something under his breath as he resumed his seat once more, laying the clipboard in front of him. Tenma couldn’t read it upside down, but there seemed to be several boxes with checkmarks in red. 

“It says on your file that you came from Dusseldorf. You were working at Eisler Memorial Hospital, chief of surgery was it? You had quite a reputation. To be honest, I think you might be the most qualified member of my team. It’s a good place to start.” The man seemed amicable - not quite the cold indifference that Tenma had gotten accustomed to as he was ushered around to collect his clearance and passes. It was easier to listen to him, to this Richter. The man clasped his hands together, focusing his more laidback gaze on Tenma. “I’m sure you’ve been through plenty of talks already about what the Foundation will have in store for you. I promise this will be quick, and then I’ll be taking you to your first job.”

Tenma’s mouth fell open, but Richter chuckled, waving him off before he could even speak. “Not on your own, don’t worry. We typically send medics in on their own or in smaller groups, but even a seasoned doctor like yourself needs to learn the ropes. We have protocols to follow that you might not be familiar with. Better you shadow the first couple with me and then we’ll get you on track with the rest of the team.”

That...made a little more sense, though it was still surprising. Perhaps he’d been misled by the severity of everyone else he’d interacted with, but he hadn’t thought they would be willing to introduce him to the job proper so early on without preliminary training. Though, he supposed that was something better learned on the job in some cases - and he was being supervised, so someone would be keeping an eye on him regardless. Even so, Tenma was happier with that kind of pace, being able to get right into the work suited him well enough. He kept his attention on Richter, a little more willing to listen.

“It’s been explained to you that this isn’t going to be quite like working with your patients as a doctor. We have strict guidelines when it comes to dealing with SCPs. You’ll be provided with a file when you’re assigned to one - it’ll tell you everything you need to know about handling them. This is the one we’ll be taking a look at together.” He spun the clipboard around for Tenma to see, tapping at the checked boxes.

“I had this printed out for you this time, but once you've been cleared, you'll get your own copies, and important information will be relayed through your pager. Now, these two boxes here - “ He jabbed at two checkmarks on the page. They were labelled _speech reactive_ and _aggressive_. There were several other unticked boxes - telepathic, mutate, non-humanoid, docile, avoidant...it seemed they were a basic profile of the subject. But Tenma didn’t think much on it; Richter was speaking again. 

“These ticks will give you an idea of what to expect. If you see speech-reactive checked, don’t talk to it. That means anything from...an understanding of speech, an ability to reproduce speech, or at worst, talking to it can trigger its anomalous effect or render you at risk. As a general rule, you shouldn’t be speaking to them - but on the other hand, there are other anomalies whose handling _requires_ you to engage them. And you can see a little more detail here…”

Tenma glanced down at the large square below the checked and unchecked boxes. There was a short description elaborating further on each of the ticked boxes above, along with further notes on management - lights were to be kept low; if awake, avoid eye contact and avoid loud noise; subdue with supplied sedative. Tenma nodded, indicating to Richter that he’d read over each point. The man hummed, taking the clipboard back and retrieving something from his pocket. It was definitely a pager, but more advanced than what Tenma was used to. Richter held it out, giving Tenma a quick look.

“Yours won’t be issued for...I would guess a week, probably a week, but I want you to have a look. The Foundation has somewhat more advanced technology than you’re probably used to. But if you - “ He tapped the screen twice, displaying a small menu. It was hard to read any of it before Richter was tapping through it again, pulling up the...ah, Tenma recognized it as the same information printed onto the page he’d read just now, but presented in short bullet form. More than that, though, there was a time marked on the top right, indicating that they were going to be called on within twenty minutes.

“The screens only respond to the owner. When you receive yours you’ll give it a thumbprint and after that only you will be able to use that device, barring any sort of tampering of course. There are at least three SCPs on-site capable of manipulating technology if they can get their hands on it. You won't be permitted to take your pager with you if you're assigned to them. But I think…” Richter checked a few more things with the odd clicking of buttons, then nodded, stuffing the device back in his pocket as he moved to stand. “We have a few things to collect from Processing, and it’s a bit of a hike to the SCP’s containment unit. Let’s make our way over now, and if you have any questions I can answer them before we’re called on.”

Tenma felt his heart rate pick up, nodding firmly. Knowing that they were about to start a job...all of what he’d read, and been told, was going to seem much more real. He wasn’t _eager…_ his anticipation was somewhere closer to dread, but there was definitely some part of him that was curious. Curious to see just what they had planned for…

_SCP-5110._

For Johan.

* * *

It didn't take long for them to pick up what they needed; there seemed to be prepared medical kits of differing classifications ready to go - most likely for the sake of quickness, when a medic could be called for extremely urgent care. It had Tenma in a somewhat familiar mindset, dressed in a white coat with his colleague, masked with thin latex gloves in hand. But any sense of comfortable familiarity vanished when the two medics were greeted by...a pair of armed and masked men, guns holstered on their backs but menacing all the same.

They were wearing what to Tenma looked like heavy-duty gear; padded material, protective vests, tinted visors he couldn’t see through, and guns at least the length of their arms. Tenma had seen them before, of course - patrolling, or standing guard outside of doors. He'd never been quite so close like this. Richter at least recognized Tenma’s immediate uncertainty as they approached, and clapped a hand on his shoulder, though that only made him flinch.

“This is Doctor Tenma. He’s new to unit C. This is his first time seeing you guys. Care to explain what you do?”

The question had a hard edge to it that made it more an order than a request. One of the two - shorter, by a few inches - stepped forward and Tenma fought the urge to step back. Richter’s hand on his shoulder at least served to keep him from moving.

“Sir. We’re from the Security Department and our mandate is to protect our assignments from harm. We have been tasked to you per request of the medical division dispatch team.”

The guard had a low, but steady voice. It felt strange to hear something so human from behind a dark mask like that. Tenma couldn’t even see their eyes. It felt threatening, even if their function was to protect. Tenma’s gaze went from the face of the speaker to the gun he carried, then glanced back toward Richter, who nodded.

“I believe it’s been established that many of the SCPs pose a threat to us as medics. It’ll take some getting used to, but try not to mind the guards. They’re just here to make sure nothing happens to us. Not all of our patients _want_ to be treated. But we have a job to do.”

Tenma pursed his lips, but bit his tongue and nodded through it. He was in no place to oppose the statement, even if he didn't agree with it; there had to be a better way to protect the medical staff than a guard with a _gun_ , a tool for killing. But for now, he kept that to himself. That would be a topic of discussion for later. He allowed Richter to take the lead again, relaxing as he followed in step. Richter came to a set of doors, flicking out his key card and bringing them inside a small, rectangular gray room. There was a desk off to one side, with a blue folder marked _SCP-3304_ , but beyond that the room was barren. At the far side of the room was another set of doors with key card access. Tenma tried not to let himself stiffen again, but being in such a small space with those guns with nowhere to go was...a little less than comforting.

Richter set his supply case down on the desk, then grabbed the blue folder and opened it, scanning the notes inside and nodding. He turned it over to Tenma, who took it in turn. Not much was written - it was hand scrawled, but legible; seemingly further notes identifying that SCP-3304’s environment was prepared for entry, and identifying that this was a “standard routine procedure”. That probably had more bearing to Richter than Tenma, but in time that would change. Tenma watched his superior open the kit he’d brought, selecting specific items and taking them out, placing some back. He lifted a small glass tube of liquid, clear but somewhat viscous.

“This is a little different from the Foundation standard sedative. We use it on patients that don’t respond to thee gas. Typically we’d rather put them under using the airborne method - it causes less stress than an injection - but there are a number of exceptions whose anomaly makes them immune. This one is much more potent and fast-acting. It's mixed with an anomalous compound, so it can have more severe side effects than the standard fare. When your kit is provided with a sedative, make sure to read the required dosage on your file and make sure that’s what’s contained in the vial. Too much could cause severe damage to the subject, particularly to humanoids.”

The way Richter was talking made the drug sound more experimental than Tenma would have liked to be using it on his patients, but he didn't speak on it. The idea of using something that could still cause severe harm, and had unspecified 'side effects' was...unpleasant at the least. It made him wary of the substance, but if it was standard issue, then it had to have been thoroughly tested and approved despite its flaws. He nodded to show his understanding, and Richter put it back in the kit.

“We’re going in now. I want you to stay back and watch, just this once. At least until we have it rendered inert. If you’re as talented a doctor as your file suggests, you might even outdo my own work.”

Tenma drew in a slow breath, his jaw set. He already felt himself protesting against his own speech, but-

“Are...are all patients sedated when we’re called on?”

That gave the chief pause, lowering the key card before he could swipe it. He glanced back toward Tenma and smiled ruefully, shaking his head. “Sedatives are never mandatory; the medic leading the operation has the authority to overrule a suggestion to use it. However we typically employ a sedative for more hostile subjects. Those deemed docile don’t tend to put up a struggle and generally don’t need it, but it’s good to have on hand in case a situation develops. The stuff in that vial will put it out in under five seconds.”

At least Tenma was glad to hear that. Given the authority to manage his own patients...he would be allowed to forego putting them under unless it was truly necessary. He felt himself relax when he nodded, muttering a quiet _understood_ under his breath. Richter waited, seemingly to make sure he was done asking questions, before he finally swiped his key card, letting the four enter.

As stated on the information sheet, the lights were on, but low. Richter put an arm up, indicating for Tenma to stay back. He looked around the room, then remembered the statement not to look the patient in the eyes. His gaze fell to the floor quickly, though as he scanned the rest of the room he felt...abruptly rather cold. Even if he couldn’t look at his patient closely, it didn’t mean he couldn’t see him for the bigger picture.

He was...human, relatively. Certainly there were aspects of him that were less so - without looking him in the eyes, Tenma at least could see that he had a pale, almost greenish complexion, with rougher skin. Definitely out of the ordinary, but still very human. What unsettled Tenma, though, what made him feel icy, was the set of shackles that bound his patient’s wrists, chained to a bolt on the floor. He remembered Richter’s words - _aggressive, some of them were aggressive_ \- but that...that didn’t excuse chaining up an injured man.

As the guards entered, they had their weapons drawn, held toward the ground for now, but posture facing toward the patient. All it would take was a snap of the wrist and the twitch of a finger. Their patient quickly became aware he wasn’t alone and let out a low, gutteral growl, jerking against his chains to no avail. Tenma’s hand twitched. He opened his mouth to offer a warning - to tell him not to pull those chains, that it would only chafe his skin and worsen injuries, but a bump from Richter’s shoulder hushed him. That...that had also been on the patient’s card. Avoid speaking to him. 

So, Tenma did what he was told. He hung back and watched. The patient was...watching him, watching the guards, watching Richter...watching everyone. And while it was hard to tell, Tenma could most certainly feel something fearful coming from the other side of the room. The man was chained up and surrounded and injured and frightened; it was turning Tenma’s gut. Even as Richter stepped around behind the man with the vial and syringe in hand, Tenma...Tenma opened his mouth, uttering a small groan of a noise - shy, an attempt to make himself heard. At once, the chained man grew completely still, tilting his head fully to the side as he listened, suddenly on alert.

Then he let out a yelp and collapsed forward, Richter’s syringe at the base of his neck.

The chief medic gave Tenma an exasperated, but not unkind look as he removed the syringe, his shoulders deflating back to relaxation. “The last people that spoke to 3304 haven’t spoken since. You don’t want this guy zeroing in on your voice. Trust me.” 

Richter gave no further explanation than that, but Tenma wasn’t expecting one. He cleared his throat, bringing the medical kit closer. Richter produced a key from his lab coat - when or where he’d grabbed it, Tenma wasn’t sure - and released the now unconscious man’s wrists, catching the shackles and setting them down off to the side. Much closer, Tenma could see the angry purple marks on his skin. He started working without prompt, reaching for the antiseptic and a cloth, beginning to treat the wounds. Outside of the marks on his wrists, there were several bruises, ranging from yellow to a deep, dark purple across his chest. There was a scar on his front, a recent one, only just beginning to heal. It looked agitated, like it had been reopened at some point. Tenma wondered what it was from.

The most significant of Tenma’s observations, though, was just how human this man was. Beyond the odd roughness to his skin and the greenish coloration, everything was...very ordinary. He had a very human face with messy dark hair and looked for all the world like a human male, aged approximately in his mid-thirties. He was-

Tenma was startled from his thoughts as a hand reached out and clapped his shoulder. He didn’t mean to flinch, but the sensation was wildly unexpected and...something about this situation had left him uncomfortable, a bit agitated. He shivered, taking a slow breath and turning to face Richter. The man offered an apologetic smile, before holding up a small white jar with a clear gel in it.

“This is another one of our more important items, something you’ll probably use very often. It’s a very powerful healing agent; this gel helps tissue repair rapidly, so we use it on most deep wounds and scrapes. Again you’ll want to make sure that your file doesn’t read to exclude the healing agent; we have alternatives - this one, marked with the yellow stripe, isn’t quite as powerful but it’s been proven not to have any ill side effects on those who produce irregular symptoms with the usual gel. Just remember to mind the contents of your kit.” He smiled, unscrewing the lid and dabbing some of the gel on the patient’s bloody injuries.

“Fortunately, this is a fairly standard case. 3304 is extremely violent; even when restrained, it refuses to relax unless the lights are kept low. But our techs need to be able to see what they’re doing, so sometimes...when it struggles against its restraints, these sorts of injuries tend to be common. There’s not much more we can do for it, except to make it comfortable and treat its injuries as best we can. You’ll find that’s the case with many of our subjects”

“Patients.”

Once again, Tenma could feel the regret burning in his throat as the words came out, but there was also...a certain degree of adamant fire. To Richter it seemed to be _normal,_ calling this man _it_ and _subject._ Even now he looked a little confused, like Tenma had said something completely alien. Tenma squared his shoulders, narrowing his gaze a little as he decided to hold his ground. He was in no position to exact changes, but at the very least he could defend his choice of language.

“They’re our patients.”

Richter’s face fell, and Tenma knew already that this place, this job, wasn’t much going to appreciate his nature, no more than he would appreciate working in these unethical conditions. But if it meant he had a chance to keep an eye on Johan...there simply wasn’t any way he could conscionably leave the boy in the hands of this facility to become some sort of a...a rat in a maze. Contrary to whatever they believed, Johan was a human being. He deserved to be treated with care.

“Yes, well...that's true in the sense that we're caring for them. But let me put it to you one way. SCP-3304 isn’t human. It has been classified not only anomalous, but _dangerous._ So long as they remain under surveillance and study, they _will_ be referred to by their numerical assignment, or as...subjects, anomalies, assets. It’s absolutely imperative - even among us medics - that we distinguish them from human beings to avoid misguided attachments. We _do_ have patients, now and then - the researchers and technicians who are assigned to these tests and run the greatest risk of being injured or killed by the subject. Other medics like you and I, those are our patients. I know your heart is in the right place, but the SCPs aren’t human, and you can’t think of them as human. That’s how...medics like us get killed. They prey on kindness, use us to try to escape. It seems harsh to you now, but when you’ve...seen what they can do, you’ll understand. Trust me.”

It seemed like Richter was speaking from experience. He looked almost haunted, tired, as he spoke. Tenma….didn’t know that he agreed, but he left it at that all the same. Just by Richter’s tone, he knew there wasn’t any arguing with the man.

With their job done, the two packed up to leave, Richter making sure to re-apply the shackles on the patient’s wrists. The guards hadn’t raised their weapons once; Tenma was at least glad of that, but he only felt able to relax when the two finally departed, leaving the doctors alone. Even then, though, he wasn’t entirely sure that… _relaxed_ was a good descriptor for how he felt now. Tenma had been told that his role as a medic wouldn’t be like being a doctor, that he should expect differences. But this…

Shackling someone so badly wounded was downright inhuman. That man had been afraid...and he had every right to be, with armed guards on either side and doctors refusing to communicate with him. He had no way to know they wanted to help him, when they wouldn’t even speak. And it was hard for Tenma to accept the idea that...that someone so human… _wasn’t._ That the man he saw in that room was not a human being.

Richter seemed to sense his malcontent; as he and Tenma returned the kits and other pieces they had picked up for the job, he had kept relatively quiet, though offered a look of relative encouragement. It wasn’t much help, but Tenma at least didn’t feel terribly chastised for acting against protocol nor alienated for his discomfort. When it was all over, Richter brought them back to the small sitting room they’d first had their discussion in, closing the door and leaning his back against it.

“You’re out of your element, but you’ll adapt. It’s uncomfortable because you’re human, and you’re used to dealing with other humans. I know right now it probably seems wrong to you, but we’re not cruel to the SCPs. 3304 has inhuman strength and needs to be restrained while conscious or it can be a greater risk to others and to itself. That’s also why we need to sedate it. Things would be easier if it reacted well with the gas, but there’s no helping this case. We aren’t monsters. We’re doing what we can for their sakes, as much as our own.”

Tenma nodded, though it was a small, numbed gesture. Richter hummed, seemingly trying to bring the mood back up, but Tenma’s general disdain wasn’t doing much to let him. Eventually he gave up and just cleared his throat, looking back to Tenma.

“Now...aside from trying to communicate with it, you handled yourself appropriately with 3304. I don’t have another patient for a few hours, so it might do you well to get some rest and eat something before we continue. Did you have any questions, before I let you go?”

Tenma straightened, cool eyes meeting Richter’s, hands clasping behind his back.

“I was wondering where-” _Johan._ “-5110 is. I wanted to see...him.”

Even trying to comply with the Foundation, he couldn’t bring himself to fully dehumanize Johan. He couldn’t do it. Richter at least seemed encouraged that he’d used the number, but he didn’t seem entirely pleased with the question itself. His gaze fell, and he took a minute to decide, clearing his throat again. It was obvious he didn’t want to be put in this position.

“I suppose you’ll keep asking until you get an answer.” he muttered finally, shrugging a shoulder. He glanced back up to Tenma, visibly a little more tensed now. “5110 is currently under observation by the team assigned to it. I can promise you that there’s no danger to its-”

_”Where?”_

Richter visibly jumped a little at Tenma’s unexpected volume, mouth falling open, though he quickly rammed it shut again, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Tenma himself flushed lightly, glancing away, murmuring a soft apology. He hadn’t meant to be quite so loud, but the idea that Johan was being observed without his supervision was unsettling. He didn’t want promises of anything. He wanted to know, to see for himself that the boy was all right. Richter looked over him again, then heaved a long, heavy sigh.

“This may work to your advantage. If they’re taking readings, there’s a safe way for you to see him. And...you’re going to have to get used to the observation deck one way or another, so I suppose there’s no harm. I’ll escort you there myself. You’ll be happy to know he’s in our division's jurisdiction…”

There was nothing happy about any of that, but Tenma was at least glad he wasn’t being brushed off as he was with Gillen. He let Richter take the lead again, watching the halls as they walked. One thing he’d noticed moving from C-block to D-block and back again was that the walls were a different colour. That was probably how they differentiated each of the sections, though Tenma still didn’t know what any of it meant. Right now it was just something to focus on that didn't make his blood boil.

They reached a large door marked C-200 Observation and stopped. Undoubtedly by the way Richter hesitated, this was against regular protocols. With another sigh, Richter clearly getting ready for any questions as to why he was bringing Tenma in so soon, he pushed the door open and let both of them inside.

The room was equipped with computers, monitoring devices, camera screens...sophisticated technology. People in white coats were watching them, adjusting them, and looking at the far wall of the room, which was...entirely glass. It was all thick, reinforced glass and through it, Tenma could see the boy he had brought back from a state of near-death.

Tenma swallowed, half-stumbling as he moved forward to approach the glass, eyes wide as he watched the boy down below. He was unconscious, hooked to some sort of machine with various sensors blinking on and off. He didn’t seem to be injured or otherwise in any state of distress. By the vital readings from some of the monitors he’d passed he knew at least that he wasn’t in poor health. Even so...Tenma didn’t like it. He didn’t like that his patient was taken under observation without first consulting him.

“Tenma.”

The familiar, gruff voice caught his attention, and he turned, eyes narrowed into a glare as doctor Gillen - whom until then, he hadn’t noticed - approached. He did take pause at Tenma’s sharp glare, but it didn’t deter him as he made his approach. He looked Tenma up and down coolly, clutching a clipboard under one arm.

“I wasn’t expecting to run into you here.” There was a definite sound of dissent in those words, and Richter behind him cleared his throat, very much aware that he was going to get a talking to later. But, for now, Gillen kept his focus on Tenma. Tenma, in turn, raised his head, peering down just a little at the other man. He didn’t speak, but the icy look he gave certainly had a volume to it. Gillen frowned, then let out a small sigh.

“We’re just doing a few rudimentary tests right now to assess its physical health and monitor brain activity. You’re welcome to watch, if you can keep quiet. When this is over, I’d like you to accompany me to my office. We’ll…” He paused, shrugged a shoulder, seemingly working through his words. “...talk.”

* * *

Doctor Tenma’s disturbance of the test had come as a surprise, but ultimately had hindered nothing. Gillen was able to oversee the work with no further complication. They had only been taking the subject’s vitals and taking preliminary cognitive readings; at the very least the doctor hadn’t made much of a fuss when asked to keep quiet. But by the look on his face the entire time, he wasn’t happy. So, a talk was in order.

With Tenma back in his office and tea brewing, Gillen was ready to deal with...whatever it was the new doctor had complaints about. He could very well guess on his own. Even so, he sat down, gesturing toward Tenma with a curt nod.

“Why don’t you tell me what it is that’s bothering you.”

Both were fully aware that Gillen knew; it was just a formality, but at least granting Tenma the option of choosing his own words gave him more of a sense of stability right now. To his credit he stayed relaxed - much more than he had in the moment, while on the observation deck - and actively took his time before speaking.

“I understand that I don’t have an established place in the Foundation.” he started, coolly, and aptly. “But I would appreciate being notified of what’s happening to my patient.”

Gillen nodded, clasping his hands in front of him. This was as good a place to start as any. “I understand your concern. Until recently, he _was_ your patient. But you have to understand that right now, 5110 is primarily under the supervision of the research team. You and the rest of Richter’s team will be in charge of caring for his health, but he needs to be studied, so that we can learn more about his anomaly.”

That wasn’t the answer Tenma was looking for, by the tension in his shoulders and the sharpness of his eyes. He raised his head as he addressed Gillen again.

“And will he be chained, like 3304?”

Cold, very cold. Gillen closed his eyes and sighed, rubbing his temple and letting his other hand rest comfortably on the table, his gaze slipping from Tenma’s eyes to a spot somewhere in front of him. “You might see it as undignified or inhumane. That’s respectable, for a doctor. But once you grasp how truly dangerous some of these beings are, you’ll begin to see it differently.”

He was trying to be agreeable, but Tenma still refused him, shaking his head with that defensive look about him. “I can’t say I’ll ever see things that way.” His refusal was staunchly firm. Gillen could only shrug nonchalantly. 

“I’m willing to work with you on this, Tenma. But _you_ have to be willing to work with the Foundation. If you want to be notified when 5110 is under observation, that can be arranged. But you won’t be allowed to barge in as you please nor do you have the ability to make any decisions on whether the tests move forward or not. That’s the most we can do for you, for now.”

Tenma stood abruptly. There was a slam as Tenma’s hands came down on the desk, frustration boiling over. “Then at least let me _talk_ to him. Let me _see_ him! I just need to know that he’s all right. I’m asking for a few moments alone, nothing else.”

Once more Gillen’s brow furrowed and he sighed and shook his head, unperturbed but growing tired. “I’ll only say it so many times. Because of the nature of 5110’s anomaly, you _can’t_ speak with him. Right now, we don’t know if seeing him is dangerous, either. Until we have more information, I’m going to have to ask you to be patient. You’ll see him when you’re assigned to check his vitals, but until we can be sure that speaking to him is safe, please stay away from 5110. This is for your own safety, doctor Tenma.”

The man looked a mix of coldly calm and bitterly irate, his expression distant as he straightened up and moved toward the door, eyes narrowing at Gillen once more. 

“I’m more worried about the safety of my _patient._ ”

With that, he pushed open the door and left. Gillen closed his eyes and breathed out a sigh. Two months...there really was no way he’d survive longer than that.

Faintly, he became aware of loud whistling, and sighed yet again. He’d forgotten the tea.


	4. Kill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implications of mild self harm in this chapter after the 1st horizontal rule.

The weeks that followed were...interesting, to say the least. 

Doctor Tenma was efficient, if unconventional, within the medical staff. Doctor Richter had submitted his report while the new doctor was shadowing him; indeed Tenma was a medical genius, but his insistence on _human_ terminology was marked as an irritant and a concern. Gillen certainly found it interesting; he had expected more complaints from the younger upstart doctor, more meetings in his office debating ethics. But aside from the preliminary report from Richter, very little was directly called on.

Of course, Gillen could see his “humanizing” behaviour from the observation deck, when their schedules coincided; there were several instances throughout his treatment of a subject that doctor Tenma would...behave placatingly toward it. In the reports he submitted, he used deliberate language - _he, she, human, patient._ It carried a rather poignant message - that Tenma would _work_ for the Foundation...he would work, prove his worth, perform his duties as required. But he would not _become_ the Foundation. In every way, he was declaring himself unique to them, separate. Despite his awareness - three weeks, almost four now - of just what the SCPs were capable of, he still refused to abandon humanity.

In an odd way, doctor Tenma had become something of a...project, for Gillen. He couldn’t help the deep fascination that he had with this man who was setting himself up to fall apart at the seams, in the same way that one found fascination in watching the final moments before vehicles collided. There was a certain morbidity about it: about watching this man with his barriers raised about his body, knowing that pieces of him were chipping, chipping away. How long would he hold onto those ideals, before the weight of the Foundation broke him down? In a way Gillen saw it almost as arrogance. Doctor Tenma truly saw himself as a _superior_ breed of human, someone who wouldn’t eventually succumb to the environment he had been brought into. It was defiance pushed to the extreme.

And yet, despite the problems, Gillen...allowed the behaviour. He allowed it, because it had caused no direct conflict within the Foundation - not with his own work, nor with the individuals he worked with. Gillen realized that by allowing Tenma to go on as he was - rather than coaching him in the proper mentality a medic should have - he himself was surely drawing raised eyebrows. But, he stood by his defense: that this was an experiment, a closer look within the human mind of the recruit. He wanted to test the limit of a defiant spirit, to know just when, and just what, would cause him to stumble, eventually. So for now, he allowed the medic to act within reasonable freedom, under the observation of his direct supervisor while Gillen gathered data from his reports.

The next time that Gillen properly saw Tenma was at six weeks - coming close, very close to his predicted mental collapse. Gillen had to wonder if that judgement still held weight. Though...it was hard not to notice the changes in the younger doctor, even in passing. His character remained the same of course; Tenma remained as intently determined to uphold his values as ever, but in his appearance wasn't quite the prim and clean-cut look it had been. His hair had grown longer, his body a size slimmer. Work was long and hard and meals were fewer. It wasn’t quite the luxury life of the surface, eating whenever one pleased. In this place, the body was as taxed as the mind.

It was during Gillen's break, while he was eating his lunch, that Tenma had requested a short meeting. Gillen could guess just what it was that he wanted. He was only surprised that it took him so long to come back to ask. So, Gillen waited patiently in his office, eating his soup, waiting for the familiar three-rap knock at his door. Lowering the bowl, he crossed one leg over the other, eyes raising as he squared his shoulders.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and Tenma stepped inside. He carried himself more confidently now than he had in those first days, though his posture remained stiff. Sleek hair that had been trim in its professionalism was now tied back neatly in a short, handsome ponytail. Tenma moved to take a seat, then hesitated when inquisitive eyes focused not on Gillen’s face, but the soup he was still holding. The doctor’s mouth fell open and he drew in a breath as though preparing to say those damnable, predictable words, but Gillen raised a hand before he could follow through.

“Stay, it’s fine. This can be reheated at any time. Sit d...close the door and sit down.”

Tenma relaxed a little hearing the request for him to stay, and nodded curtly. He was quick as he pulled the door shut and found his seat, adjusting his jacket so that it sat snugly, evenly, on his shoulders. He clasped his hands in front of him and made to meet Gillen’s eyes, this time keeping something cool about his expression. Something unreachable. 

“It’s been some time since I started with the foundation.” 

Hardly true, but Gillen didn’t interject. Time hardly felt the same in a place like this, certainly to newcomers.

“I’m sure I’ve proven my capabilities by now. What I want to know is what it will take for me to be assigned to 5110’s team. To take over as the medic on his case.”

Mm, now that wasn’t quite how he’d expected this to go. Gillen had been fully ready for Tenma to come in demanding to be placed on 5110’s team, but he had opted for something a little more...cordial. Actually, his question was more respectful than Gillen had anticipated. He was expecting that, after their rather rough beginning, the doctor probably didn’t have any amount of respect for him. So this was a welcome surprise. But even then...

“It’s true, I can certainly recognize that you’ve performed rather well for a beginner. Better than I expected. Though of course, there seem to be the odd complaints that you humanize the subjects too much.” Gillen watched those bright eyes sharpen. Without saying even a word, those depths spoke quite plainly. “...In truth, I can’t say it bothers me. So long as you’re not sowing discord among your colleagues, how you view the subjects is your prerogative. I gave you my advice, as did Richter. And while I’m content to let you go on as you do, we can’t deny that your humanization of 5110 comes from something rather personal. You feel strongly responsible for him, don’t you? Strong enough to do something you shouldn’t, perhaps.”

Tenma didn’t challenge him, but he also didn’t look pleased with Gillen’s assessment. Gillen’s own expression hardened as he stared the doctor down, shoulders drawing back, squared. 

“I understand and respect your intentions, but at this stage I don’t know if letting you near 5110 is wise. Not alone, at least. I suppose I can have you assigned to assist the research team in taking his readings, but I can’t have you alone with him. Will that suit you for now?”

Tenma did seem to… _think_ about that, ponder it. He wasn’t getting the answer he wanted, but he wasn’t getting an outright no, either. Gillen pushed while he still had at least vague interest from the doctor.

“Like I said, I’m willing to work with you. If you want to see him, I can arrange it this way. It’s not going to be what you want, but you’ll be able to see him. When...when I’m _sure_ that I can trust you alone with him, I’ll revisit having you take over as 5110’s primary medic. Is that acceptable?”

Whatever frustration there might have been before, whatever defensiveness, had dissipated. Tenma looked on with those deep amber eyes, his gaze still so distant. After a moment he focused, blinking and nodding curtly. He didn’t speak, but the nod was enough. Gillen relaxed his posture, a faint hint of a smile lighting his features, if only briefly.

“Good. In that case...unless you have anything else you wanted to discuss-”

“No. I’ll be going, then.”

Tenma was swift to interject - a bit rude, but he probably just didn’t want to waste time. He gave a hasty bow on his way out, catching Gillen a bit off guard once again. He remembered to pull the door closed on his way out, earning a small smile from Gillen. He drew in a long breath, turning back to the soup he’d abandoned. He’d finish it cold.

* * *

It was killing him, just to keep going like this.

Tenma was hungry. He was tired. But despite himself he couldn't stomach a proper meal, could barely catch sleep without waking in a cold sweat. Behind the venir of calm he placed on his face every day, pieces were starting to crumble. This place, this… _foundation,_ was testing every fiber of Tenma’s being. As a doctor...no, as a _human,_ some of the practices in this place were nothing short of barbarism. Every part of him wanted to fight it - to speak up, to call out the broken ethics and demand reform. What stopped him was the reality of what would happen if he did.

Doctor Gillen had alluded to it, when they spoke the first time. Had indicated that Tenma could be returned to his old life, the memories of this place - and of Johan - erased outright. There had never been a threat, not exactly, but Tenma wasn’t a fool. If he dared step too far out of line, exhibited behaviours that shook the foundation of this facility, he had no doubt that he would be quietly removed and made to live out his life with no knowledge of any of the horrors he’d witnessed. If he was going to survive this place to see Johan...to protect him, then Tenma needed to be nothing less than a model to the Foundation’s medical staff.

Spite and determination kept him going. Tenma found that he could bury, could internalize, his grievances in the moment. He could work with Richter and the other medics - treat severe injuries while masked figures pointed their guns at his patient, keep focused on the job even when his patients were in clear distress. He could ignore when he recognized one of his patients, recognized the same nature of injuries, read the reports that they were received during standard tests performed by the research team. He swallowed it all down while on task.

He poured it out afterward. All of it.

Tenma knew that his room was probably bugged. At least, he assumed as much; he expected the Foundation probably had him under surveillance and probably did the same for most new entries. He always kept up his mask until he took a shower - probably the only place he had any real privacy, and let it all come out then, with the pressure of scalding water searing into his back as he incessantly rubbed his skin red and raw. Not precisely because it felt unclean, but because it _hurt,_ because he _should_ hurt. Because for however much he tried to do for his patients he knew it wasn’t enough. He knew _he_ wasn’t enough, that he’d only see them again, and that when he _didn’t_ he never knew their fate.

He liked to sit there, for a while. Just to sit, with water pouring down over his head, the sound at least giving some sort of catharsis to a wound it could never heal. When he sat still in the tub, he could almost feel flakes of himself chipping away, bleeding from the inside. He remembered when Richter said he’d get used to working like this. That had been...had been...he didn’t know, a month, maybe more, how long? And it still was as false as he’d thought it was then. Tenma took as much solace as he could in building a positive rapport with his patients. He could _see_ it, how they responded differently to him. But it was only so much a salve to his aching, breaking soul. He knew that to make a difference in a place like this, he needed to maintain a reputation. He needed to move up, and to move up he needed to swallow every wrongdoing he wanted to voice.

That kept him going, kept him alive. It hurt, now. For now it was unbearable. But when he had more of a leg to stand on, when he had a foothold, he _would_ make the Foundation reform. That promise...he needed that promise in order to survive. In order to keep living.

For now...he took what victories he could.

At the very least his meeting with doctor Gillen had gone well. It was a small breath of hope, just one thing that cleared his lungs of smog. In truth he had expected to be shut down outright, but it seemed his superior was in a more generous mood than he expected. That was the first time he had seen the man express anything other than the gruffness he addressed his teams with, from a resolute distance. And there was one other thing that had stood out, to Tenma.

 _He._ Gillen...despite his insistence during Tenma’s first days that the anomalies were not human and should not be humanised, doctor Gillen had still called Johan… _he._ Even called him Tenma’s patient, not a subject. Tenma had his doubts that the significance was anything more than a desire to connect with Tenma on his level, but even that was...something, he supposed. Something he didn’t mind.

For now, he was waiting to be contacted by a doctor Rose, currently in charge of Johan's tests. Tenma busied himself by running an inventory check for one of the supply cabinets; it wasn’t part of his responsibilities, but he found that he felt a little better doing routine stocktaking, something simple and slow paced. It let him unwind his thoughts, focus on something else, on making sure there was plenty of medicine available for emergency dispatches.<.p>

It was one of the things he _did_ have to marvel at here. Medically, it was a dream; the Foundation really was equipped with state of the art technology and drugs he’d never heard of as a doctor at Eisler. It was impossible not to think of how much help these sorts of medicines would be to the general populace. A part of him wondered just what might happen if he found the research information that led to these breakthroughs and...smuggled it, somehow, to the surface. 

He’d probably be killed, or that was his first thought. Best to let that idea die, but...it really was terribly tempting. It was frustrating, knowing how many people that medicine could save. He pulled one of the analeptics from the shelf, scanning its usage and shaking his head. Twice as potent as any of the stuff he was used to using and it took effect far quicker, absorbing into the bloodstream at a much higher rate. 

There was a beep from his pager, and Tenma blinked, glancing down at the message.

_**R:** Greetings, doctor. I’ve been informed you’ll be assisting me._

_**R:** Please meet me in L-003. We’re about to set up. Bring a fully equipped medical kit._

L was the denomination for a small section of the facility containing the most sophisticated labs. The only solace that Tenma took was that from what Richter told him, Johan - 5110, he reminded himself - was only ever treated by medics to take routine readings and ensure he was in good health. Unlike some of the other patients Tenma had seen, it seemed that for whatever reason, 5110 wasn’t made to endure any kind of physically strenuous testing. A part of him wondered if that had anything to do with Tenma’s own vehement insistence with Gillen, but...that was too much to hope for. More than likely there was another reason, one he just didn’t know.

_**T:** Understood. On my way._

Tenma was quick to reply, and...since he was already rooting around in the primary supply cabinet, he was well placed to pick up the classification of kit that Rose was asking for. 

When he made his way to L-003, Tenma slowed his pace. There was someone standing outside the door - Rose, no doubt, by the white coat she was wearing. She was blond and peach-pale, and stood a little tall for a woman, though that was somewhat helped by the heels she was wearing. She had calculating green eyes that seemed to be looking through Tenma as he approached, and a smile that, while warm, didn’t seem to be directed at him. All the same, Tenma nodded in greeting, bowing forward with the kit held between his hands. She bowed in response, not as deeply.

“Tenma, is it? The medic that Gillen assigned to fill my request.”

Tenma’s mouth fell open and he blinked. He tried to speak up, but nothing came out except a soft _”Uh-”_ \- but the woman didn’t seem to mind. She nodded, reaching into her breast pocket for her key card.

“That’s all right. You can relax. I can see you’re all set, so please, follow me.”

Tenma was grateful that she didn’t press him further, scuttling along as the woman swiped her card. A part of him wondered if he had clearance to enter, but he didn’t dare try with her here. As they stepped inside, Tenma came face to face with...admittedly, a somewhat unsettling sight. 

It was Johan, there was no question of that. His hair was already growing back well enough to be recognizable. What he found somewhat chilling was the state of him. Not...injured, no, but Johan was unconscious, seated upright in a secured chair of some kind, a mask covering his mouth and nose. Tenma felt his throat go dry, watching as Rose and one other assistant set up some sort of monitoring equipment. The woman looked back toward him, with those eyes that didn’t seem to be quite focused on his face, even now.

“It’s necessary to be kept unconscious while in direct contact with human beings. But I assure you, the drug has had no adverse effect on it. Of course, that’s part of what we need to monitor. If you could please prepare for a level 2 diagnostic scan, doctor…”

Tenma nodded, opening the medical kit and pulling out various connective devices. He placed two thin rubbery pads on either side of the boy’s forehead, making sure they stuck firmly in place, using gentle pressure to secure them. He let his touch linger just a little, brushing hair from the child’s brow. He really did look all right, there wasn’t much in the way of visible scars or recent injuries or bruises. He was being handled well, but that didn’t mean that this - that _any_ of this - was all right. The fact that Johan wasn’t allowed to be...to be _awake,_ to speak to anyone, was sickening.

Tenma had hoped that seeing Johan, that seeing he wasn’t hurt, would placate him a little. Would help him keep going, validate that this wasn’t for nothing, that he could keep an eye on his patient. But he...instead, he found himself wanting even more badly to reach out. Even though every single person he spoke to warned against it...he didn’t think that Johan would hurt him. Moreover, Tenma had gotten rather good at reaching out to the SCPs. They...they responded well to him. If he could do that, then perhaps with Johan…

“The readings, doctor?”

Tenma jumped, aware that doctor Rose was peering over his shoulder. He...didn’t like it, the way her gaze seemed to stare right through him. It made him feel like he wasn’t a person, or like she wasn’t really speaking to him. He swallowed around a lump in his throat, returning to his objective at hand, coughing once.

“The...I’m sorry. Readings are nominal. Everything is nominal. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to check his respiration. It looks like it might be a little shallow.”

“No, there’s no need.” She replied rather quickly, rather sharply, though not unkindly. “Readings are still within normal and safe parameters, even if they seem low. Doctor Richter will be giving it a proper medical evaluation. For our tests, we only need to focus on its synaptic activity. Please keep an eye on these readings, doctor; they may fluctuate.”

Tenma...didn’t bother to voice any further concerns after that. Once was enough to know he was little more than a lackey here and now, to this woman. But as the testing came to an end...he did feel that bold fire, just a little more, as he looked at that boy. He looked at Johan lying there and knew that he was about to leave him to the hands of men and women that didn’t care for his humanity at all. Tenma hovered at the door, waiting while the woman’s assistant left, his fingers gripping tightly to the medical kit, his throat dry again. Rose, it seemed, was aware that he wanted to speak to her, by the way that she urged him with a nod. Taking a deep breath, Tenma turned slowly to look at her fully. For once, her eyes were...focused, looking right at him. He didn’t know if he preferred this or being looked through.

“I was wondering if I might...have a word with you. I…” Tenma fought to keep eye contact. He needed to...if he wanted to make this suggestion, he had to be confident. He squared his shoulders. “I have a proposal I’d like to make with you.”

Rose looked him over, blinking once, slowly, though nothing showed in her expression, not at first. After a short moment - what seemed terribly long, to Tenma - she nodded, bringing a hand up to push gold locks out of her face, where they had come undone from her hairtie. 

“I have a free moment this afternoon. I’ll contact you then.”

There were no further words exchanged. She led the way to the door, indicating it was time to leave.

* * *

The good news was that Rose was willing to meet with him soon. The bad news was that...Tenma was called in by Richter for another routine patient, SCP-3215. By no means was 3215’s situation the worst; despite the severity of her injuries, she wasn’t able to feel pain, and so cooperated easily with the medics. Even so, coming out of that room he didn’t feel.. _well._ Healing her wounds was only setting 3215 up to be hurt again, in the same ways, in worse ways, and he was a part of the process that allowed it to happen. Tenma reminded himself it could be worse; reminded himself that she was one of his calmer, more at-ease patients. He focused on that, blotting out the guilt that crept up in his mind. He had to hold his composure with doctor Rose.

When he opened the door to her office, she seemed to be watching some sort of...footage, he couldn’t quite make it out clearly over her shoulder. There was a soft voice that he heard, almost childish, but before he could discern anything more it had all been shut down, the woman turning to smile...through him. Again, she was looking through him. He got the distinct impression he wasn’t meant to see whatever footage she was reviewing.

“Take a seat,” she said, in that pleasant way that seemed so distant, “and take your time. I’m sure this is a bit intimidating.”

It was difficult to say exactly why the way she talked was unsettling, but for now Tenma let it lie. He sharpened his gaze toward Rose and squared up, clearing his throat. 

“What I wanted to propose. You’re...if I’m not mistaken you’re in charge of the studies concerning 5110, is that right?” He looked up, amber meeting off-green. She nodded, and he continued. “What I want to propose is an opportunity for me to...to communicate with h… _it._ ” He corrected himself quickly, as much as it made his stomach queasy. “You may not be familiar but I have a reputation for being able to… _reach_ the SCPs on some level. They recognize me and...they trust me, at least in part. 5110 is...was, also my patient, before it was brought to this place. It’s my belief that 5110...that it might respond to me, if I tell it that I saved its life.”

He surprisingly didn’t struggle to articulate himself this time, even though he was considerably more on guard around this woman than with Gillen, who at least was a more familiar face. Rose sharpened her gaze on him, seemingly drilling into some unseen part of his mind that she was intent to pierce. Tenma did his best not to flinch, to keep a level head as he was analysed. After a few moments, the woman sighed and leaned back in her chair, lightly drumming the desk with her fingernails.

“I admire that you would come to me so boldly and so soon, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.” She raised a hand before Tenma could speak, and he closed his mouth again, shoulders hunching. “You may be more personally familiar with it, but that may in turn make you more susceptible to its anomaly. I respect you for trying, but the answer is no.”

She didn’t...say anything else, not even to dismiss him. Tenma felt like she was watching for something, but he didn’t know just what. He supposed it was his response. Slowly, he let his shoulders sag, nodding and standing. He bowed once more.

“Thank you for taking time out of your day to speak with me.”

She was fiddling with her watch, though her gaze did flick up as he left and she nodded his way before the door closed again.

It was...more than a little disappointing. As the door closed, Tenma could feel his hand shaking, nails digging at his palms unpleasantly. It just...felt like this place was after him, was trying to take every opportunity he might have to help his patient and...snatch it from him. He was grateful to have just the chance to see Johan, but knowing how they kept him unconscious and refused him the basic right to exist as a living being...it was vile.

To say that Tenma wasn’t going to accept that verdict easily was an understatement.

It wasn’t wise, he knew it wasn’t wise, but in the days following he...hovered. He made sure to take stops near Johan’s cell, whenever he could. When he was called on for a job, he took routes that allowed him to walk by section L, where he could chance a look in the observation deck to see how his patient was faring. It helped him in some ways, in that he wasn’t quite as numb when he assisted doctor Rose, but the feeling of being so close and yet...so unable to reach him was driving Tenma slowly mad. It was misplaced, he knew, but he felt resentment - towards Rose, towards Gillen, towards Richter, for brushing him off and turning his patient into a porcelain doll. There were too many questions in his mind; was he at least woken up to receive regular exercise, to be fed, or were his muscles degrading? Was he simply fed through a tube, only woken up to perform their tests? The more he thought, the more he asked himself those questions, the more afraid he became for Johan.

And then, just once, just to have a look at his patient, he...broke in.

Tenma knew well enough that he was probably going to be found out. That there was probably an alarm he’d triggered, that he only had a sparing few minutes with Johan, if that. He was willing to bear those consequences. Even so, he didn’t waste time making his way inside.

The room was as cramped as Tenma remembered each of the other interim cells. Though in this case, its occupant wasn’t making much of a fuss; Johan was, as before, sitting asleep in that chair of his. And that mask, covering his face…

Tenma could feel a tight coil in his gut as he stepped forward. It was some mixture of unpleasant things - guilt, wariness, foreboding. Everything in his mind was telling him to stop; even so, he removed the mask, stopping the flow of whatever drug was being pumped into his lungs. From his medical kit, Tenma grabbed a fresh syringe filled with a strong analeptic compound. Everything...everything about this felt wrong, but….he sought a vein on Johan’s untouched arm and, swallowing heavily, injected a dose of the drug into his patient’s bloodstream. All the while, Tenma kept glancing up toward the observation deck - empty, dark, uninhabited. There was no one. Of course there was no one.

It didn’t take long for the drug to take effect, rousing Johan from his drug-induced sleep. 

Brilliant blue eyes opened slowly, with long, sleepy blinks. The child looked out of sorts, delirious, but when those eyes found Tenma, something about him seemed to steady. He didn’t speak, only watched the doctor across from him. Perhaps he was afraid that Tenma was going to hurt him. Tenma, for his part, met the young boy’s gaze with a warm look of his own.

“Hello.” he started, offering a smile to the boy, though it earned no response. For all the world he looked like a doll, staring up at Tenma without even a change in his expression. He probably wasn’t going to speak until Tenma had given him some sort of reason he could be trusted. But...in a place like this...that was going to be hard. Even so, he tried again.

“You...you wouldn’t remember me, but I’m the doctor who saved you, when you were shot. There was a call...I was brought in to operate. I...I was brought to this place, just like you.” He paused again. Then, more quietly; “I stayed, for you.”

That didn’t earn a...response, exactly, but the boy’s eyes widened just a fraction - hardly any change at all, but it was noticeable to Tenma, looking deep into that cloudy blue gaze. He opened his mouth to speak again, then paused and glanced back over his shoulder. He’d been sure he heard something, saw something, but there was no one at the door. Tenma heaved a low sigh, letting the air out of his lungs slowly. He glanced back toward the boy, smiling faintly.

“I’m not really supposed to be here. I was...forbidden, from seeing you. But I needed to. I needed to speak with you. I needed to let you know that you’re not alone.”

Blue eyes blinked that slow, slow blink. Just as slowly, the boy turned his head.

“They won’t let you see me...”

Admittedly Tenma...hadn’t _expected_ to get an answer. So when the boy spoke, it all seemed very surreal; he had such a pleasant voice, one that drew a tired smile from Tenma. He shook his head, clasping his hands in his lap and chuckling wryly.

“No. I’m breaking protocol, being here, waking you up. I think I’ll get in quite a bit of trouble for this, when I’m caught.”

Perhaps he shouldn’t say that, but...he wanted the boy to know at least that if Tenma didn’t appear for a while...it wasn’t because he had lost interest. Johan was still his patient. If he didn’t come back it was because he’d been confined to quarters or was otherwise detained. But the boy seemed to take interest, his expression becoming much more lucid.

“But you don’t think you should get in trouble.”

Tenma’s smile warmed, and he shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. “No. No, I don’t think it should be wrong just to say hello.”

There was a pause then, a lengthy pause that extended several seconds. Tenma realized he was holding his breath, but couldn’t seem to release it. The boy tilted his head, sitting up a little.

“Then...why don’t you…” The voice trailed off, the silk sound drawing Tenma in. He felt a shudder down his spine and a twist in his gut, both signs of trouble that he chose to ignore. Brilliant blue eyes widened again, and Johan stared him down, catching him with that intense stare. “Why don’t you just...kill him?”

For a moment...Tenma wasn’t sure if he’d heard right.

His mouth fell open, then closed again, then opened once more and still no sound came. He shook his head, drawing a breath as though hoping to speak up, but all that he managed was a small noise of discomfort. Johan was still staring, and for all that he tried, he couldn’t look away.

“If it could get you in trouble...you should kill them. It won’t matter then, if they’re dead.”

Ice blue eyes blinked, releasing Tenma from their spell. He gasped, taking several steps backward, blinking rapidly. A hand went to his chest, fisting the material of his shirt. He could feel his heart hammering below. He walked backward, back to the heavy doors, fumbling with his key card, hands shaky as he turned to leave. 

Kill. Johan wanted him to kill.

Johan wanted him to kill...Gillen. Gillen...and…

Just then, Tenma became aware of a low hissing sound. He twitched, eyes shooting up toward the observation deck. There...there was someone, the light was on now, someone was there and….watching. But this far away from the glass, he couldn’t see who. He didn’t know. And the...smell, the smell in the air...that sound…

Tenma gasped, putting a hand over his mouth and nose, but it was already too late, and the breath he’d drawn was full of whatever sleeping gas they’d administered through the ventilation. He felt a sharp prickle behind his eyes, heart rate skyrocketing as everything started to blur and blend and fade to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Johan speaks! But it's not good.
> 
> Also poor Tenma :( He's not taking care of himself and it's messing with him bad. Tbh a big part of why he did what he did is just because he's not in a good headspace to be thinking straight but is, unfortunately, very good at keeping that to himself. Man needs to sleep and eat right now
> 
> Also-also, I originally had a whole scene planned for this but then it started seeming a bit of a slog and I didn't want to spend too much time on the breaking in bit...but basically Dr. Rose is completely aware if not slightly involved in the circumstances allowing Tenma to gain access to Johan. We do not like Rose.


	5. Shatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for unsettling thoughts of violence after the first horizontal rule.
> 
> Note there's a section where paragraphs may end with weird pauses and sentence fragments, but it's intentional; Tenma isn't perceiving time normally at this point and is basically jumping from moment to moment so it's choppy on purpose.

It wasn’t clear how 5110’s cell had been breached. Finding the cause was neither Gillen’s job nor any of his business; even so, what _was_ his business was the doctor that had gone behind his back to visit with that patient of his.

Gillen had expected something like this to happen much earlier on. Perhaps a week or two in, but not now. Not so soon after making genuine progress. This blatant disregard for protocol and safety came as a genuine shock; Gillen had talked with Tenma, had come to a _compromise,_ allowing Tenma to see his patient while accompanying the research team. Surely he knew that meant Gillen was offering him the first show of trust? So the fact that he chose to act so rashly...it didn’t seem to fit the profile of the Kenzo Tenma that Gillen had been observing.

More troubling, some part of him felt personally burned by it all. It was unusual for Gillen to be perturbed this way, as though the slight was placed on himself. But something about Tenma had gotten to him. He really had _wanted_ to trust the doctor. This was all a terrible disappointment. His own staff…

At least nothing had gone _terribly_ wrong.

5110’s awakening had sent an immediate alert to doctor Rose, who had notified him of the incident when both 5110 and the individual responsible for waking him were subdued. A thorough scan showed nothing abnormal in doctor Tenma, so at least the interaction hadn’t had a lasting effect of some sort. Even so, Gillen barely escaped getting raked over the coals for the insubordination of his new project. The board of directors wasn’t interested in failure, wasn’t interested in a cog that refused to operate with the machine. In their eyes, this failure was a stain on his own reputation, one he badly needed to clear and exact punishment for.

Termination wasn’t off the table, but Gillen was hopeful that he would be allowed to handle Tenma’s case with his own discretion. The board of directors weren’t _pleased,_ but at least they recognized that Tenma was far too valuable to simply terminate over an incident that ultimately amounted to nothing. The worst of it was negligence, and a childish act on the part of Tenma that Gillen hoped he could get to the bottom of.

The knock to his office door was hesitant. He expected it to be. Equally so, his response was gruff. _”Come in.”_ Certainly not as friendly as it could be. And as Tenma stepped inside, with that guarded apprehensive look about him, Gillen was staring at him with fire. Gillen said absolutely nothing, didn’t prompt Tenma to close the door, to sit down, nothing. Tenma, of course, knew that he was expected to do both and complied regardless, pulling the door hesitantly closed and moving to sit opposite to his superior, shoulders squared and guarded. He seemed to be waiting, ready to receive whatever earful Gillen planned to give.

What he received was a heavy sigh.

Gillen raised one hand and drew it down the side of his face, shaking his head solemnly. He looked back up to meet Tenma’s gaze, expression neutral and terribly unimpressed. “I must admit, I wasn’t expecting this from you.” He spoke quietly, just a hint of disappointment showing in his voice, though there was no hiding that, even if he’d wanted to. “I’d actually been pleased with the progress we’d made, when I got you to agree with me. It was a test of trust, to see if you could listen and abide by your orders even around your former patient. I thought you understood that, but _this…”_ Gillen watched as Tenma’s eyes broke contact from his own, sank down to his feet. Gillen had no pity to spare; Tenma could mope if he liked. His own expression was no less severe as he continued.

“You didn’t just disobey me. That’s bad enough as it is. You were told, you were told _repeatedly,_ that 5110 is dangerous. That you’re not to wake him. You did it anyway. Do you have any idea what you could have done? Any idea what could have happened? You did more than throw away my trust. You selfishly put the lives of any and everyone in this facility in jeopardy because you wanted to talk to your patient.”

He watched as Tenma drew his fingers in, clenching fists in plain sight, eyes now narrowed at the table, though he said nothing and simply stared. There was anger there, roiling underneath. Gillen stared at him a little harder, his own jaw set into a mild scowl. “Well?”

His prompt earned a wicked glare from Tenma - something that startled him, truly, though he kept well-composed except for a raised brow. The other man, though, looked almost as though he was about to burst, shoulders raised in a defensive rage. “I heard you.” he very nearly snapped, voice soft and hoarse. “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry?”

“An acknowledgement would do.”

“Fine. Then I _acknowledge_. If I’m going to be punished for this, get it over with.”

There was something distinctively not right about this man. Gillen certainly couldn’t boast to know Tenma, not at all. But from what he had observed, what his careful profiling had determined, this wasn’t the sort of response he expected from Tenma. He was unusually agitated, even for a situation like this. His attitude was borderline aggressive toward his superior - certainly strange. But, just as he’d snapped, he’d just as quickly retreated back into himself with a bow of his head. Once more, Gillen sighed.

“I didn’t call you here to yell at you and deliver some punishment. You’ll certainly face consequences, but you’re not here to be gutted and then sent on your way. You and I are going to have a talk. I want to discuss this.” 

Tenma opened his mouth, visibly uncomfortable, but Gillen leaned forward, raising a hand to silence him. “Let’s cut this open plainly. You’ve been trying to win my trust all this time, going above and beyond to perform your duties. You’re even credited to have taken over for emergency dispatch calls when the time called for it. Now, of course some part of that is because you’re trying to impress me. To make me see that you’re very serious about this. But I think there’s more to it. Someone like you doesn’t just fit into the mold of the Foundation the way that you did. You’re taking on the extra work to distract yourself. But it’s not working any more; if it were, you would never have wasted the opportunity I gave you. It should have been obvious that I was giving you an opportunity to show you were trustworthy, but instead you became emotionally compromised and acted on impulse. So, doctor, if there’s anything you need to tell me, please do so. I need you to be fit to function.”

There it was again, that anger, a shudder of visible rage down his spine. Tenma only coiled further on himself, eyes wild and glaring. “ _Tell_ you…?” he very nearly hissed, teeth grit as he pushed himself upright, hands shaking as he stood. “You want to hear what I have to say? Then fine. Let me say it all. This place is monstrous. Trying to keep up with the barbarism your Foundation has justified is _tearing me apart._ And all so that I can make sure that you don’t do to my patient what you do to so many others. I feel sick every day, tending to injuries that are going to appear again and again, knowing that I’m part of a vicious cycle. I want to help these people, really properly _help_ them, but I can’t. This place makes me _sick!”_

He slammed a fist into the desk, almost immediately retracting it, fingers shaking and curling and uncurling and curling again as he brought his hand up abruptly to cover his mouth, heaving a long, slow breath, the look in his eyes suddenly almost _afraid._ But before Gillen could so much as speak, Tenma was backing away, shaking his head, going for the door. And Gillen...Gillen didn’t stop him. Because whatever it was that had happened, it was very clearly directed toward him. Right now...Tenma needed to be away from him. Though, as to that rant of his...

Gillen sighed, rubbing at the back of his head and slouching backward just a little. He’d said two months...he’d been close. At this rate, Tenma was going to undo himself within the next few weeks. But Gillen...well. It wasn’t unheard of for him to react to an outburst like that, but this...even after Tenma had left, he could feel it - a dull ache in his chest, something...dare he say, guilty? Guilty...guilty for indulging Tenma, for allowing him even the chance to try to prove himself, to work here. He wasn’t suited to it. If he failed to show improvement soon...there was no telling what might happen to him. And that...of course that went for anyone who took the job. But this one, for whatever reason, felt personal. Perhaps because he’d all but forced Tenma into it, if he ever wanted to see his patient again. 

That really had been a mistake. He never should have allowed it. But...well. It seemed the both of them had consequences to face for their actions.

* * *

Tenma hadn’t meant to storm out as he did. He didn’t want to disrespect Gillen when the reality was that he’d done all of what Gillen had said. He really had thrown his trust to the wayside. And he wanted to own up to that, to admit it. But right in that moment, as Gillen started to speak, some part of him...had wanted to hit him. He’d balled his hand into a fist...and he’d thought about it. He’d thought about punching across the desk and breaking his nose, or his jaw.

It was fleeting, a momentary thing that died shortly after it was sparked. But being asked...being asked to explain himself, that only brought it back. Made it worse. It was such an overwhelming feeling, something he’d never felt before, not like this. It was true that Tenma could sometimes have difficulty with anger...but it never became a manifestation of violence against anyone else. Something he internalized, yes...directed inward, yes...but he’d never truly thought about harming someone that way before. 

In that room with Gillen, he’d really wanted to hurt him. And he needed to leave, to make sure that he didn’t. Needed to leave because he felt sick at the thought of it. He threw himself back into his work - a crutch, just like Gillen had said, overworking himself to stay distracted.

But that was only...that was only just the surface. Just the beginning.

It wasn’t obvious at first, not really. When he was called on for an emergency with Richter, he’d felt it again - not violence this time, but a wave of nausea and anger. A strangeness that gripped him more fervently as time went on. Tenma handled his patient as carefully as ever, but some part of him found fascination in the lacerations on its arms, the cleaved marks left by its own hands. He’d wondered, idly, how that must have happened - how much force it must have used to leave such deep gashes in it…

His, in _his…_ own skin.

It wasn’t his usual clinical analysis, but something that was almost curious. _That_ was what he didn’t like, why Tenma needed to finish quickly, so he could leave. But even afterward, thoughts followed him. He saw guards in the hall, escorting one of the researchers - the woman, the one he’d spoken to briefly - to one of the laboratories. She didn’t even look his way. It was there again, the twitch of his hand, the realization that if he really wanted to make a difference in this place...he couldn’t just sit back and let himself be trampled. He had to seize opportunity by the throat, and squeeze. If it weren’t for the guards, he could do it easily. Just to make his stance very clear, that he wouldn’t tolerate any harm coming to his patient. That was all he wanted. But those guns, the guards...if he could get one, he could...if he had a gun he could…

Sleep didn’t help. Sleep was worse. His dreams were creative. In the dreams he had the power to do anything to anyone. They were vague, mostly - perhaps that was better for his waking mind. But the choked sounds of voices and the visceral agitation that coursed through him, that he felt in his hands, the ricochet of bullets, and his own voice, crying,

He was glad not to know who was in the dream. Glad not to have faces. Disturbed that he’d dreamed something so violent at all. And tired...it felt as though he hadn’t slept that night. Worse was waking to a blinking pager. A message...Richter...another job. A new arrival. Those were more dangerous than the routine work; newly-captured anomalies were more agitated, prone to violence. Even if they were suitably restrained, the medics were up close, too close, easy targets if the restraints weren’t enough to hold back their captive.

Tenma had gotten used to it, to the notion that stepping into that containment unit could be the last thing he did. And this time...there was even a part of him that was curious if it would happen. As he treated the barely-conscious anomaly he wondered if somehow it would gather the strength to kill him, but this one could barely keep eyes open, let alone even think to hurt him. His fingers drew along the dark bruises over gnarled skin, drawing inward toward the subject’s throat, where the marks were at their worst. The way his subject was struggling to breathe, the darkly purpled skin, and this...this was a _tame_ retrieval. Others came in looking far worse, barely recognizably human beneath blood and burns and welts on their bodies.

Anyone willing to use that sort of unjustified violence deserved to be…

… 

Tenma took a moment to get cleaned up, then went directly to storage, back to his usual inventory stocktaking. In the back of his mind, Gillen’s words were burning - _you’re distracting yourself._ He was, or he was trying to, but it wasn’t working. Because that damnable man...he had no place digging inside Tenma’s mind that way. It was like he was trying to dissect Tenma, pick apart his mind one piece at a time. Tenma mindlessly lifted one of the unmarked drugs from its shelf, recognizing it as a powerful anaesthetic by its listed elements. Next to it was the Foundation standard sedative, what was administered to those resistant to the gas.

How would _Gillen_ feel about it? Being dissected like that. Taken apart, piece by piece. He was always there, watching from the observation deck. What if things were reversed? And he was the one who…

Tenma dropped the glass vial. He heard it shatter, but he didn’t care. He pushed himself away, back into the main hall, back further until he found a corner to press himself into, turning to face it with an arm braced against cold concrete and his forehead pressed hard into that arm. He squeezed his eyes tight shut and took long, slow breaths. That thought was back again, burning in his mind. This time it was different. He could see it vividly, clearly, like a scene playing out in his mind; he would come into Gillen’s office, catch him off guard. Stab him with a heavy sedative. There were too many ways it could go after that. Gillen’s office was rife with possibilities. His own necktie would do. A ballpoint pen. Unconscious, it would be easy to puncture the carotid artery. Or with his own hands, he…

Wouldn’t. Would never. He’d never even think of something so...horrific. Not to Gillen. Not to Richter. Not to _anyone,_ regardless of what they might have done. So these _thoughts,_ they…

He didn’t know where they were coming from. _Why._ Tenma knew he could never do anything so violent or vicious. Attack Gillen? Kill him? Kill..

K…

_Why don’t you kill him?_

Tenma’s breath hitched and he jerked backward, away from his cradle against the wall, eyes going abruptly wide as he felt his blood congeal in his veins. Those words rang clearly in his mind. That...the voice...the voice, when he spoke to Johan…

_You absolutely can’t wake him. You don’t understand the danger…_

Slowly, Tenma took a deep breath. Gillen had been saying it from the start, warning him away from his patient. Tenma had been absolutely certain that he could talk to the boy. That it would be safe for him. The truth of it was he _didn’t_ know. He didn’t. The thoughts and images swimming in his mind lately...it could be the effect of overworking himself, poorly managing his own frustrations. But it could also be...it _could_ be...that Gillen had been right. That somehow, Johan had afflicted him with something. And as much as he didn’t want to bend to the Foundation, the reality was that if he’d been...affected, he had no way of knowing what could happen, if he went on unchecked. He could really, truly become dangerous.

At the very least he needed to speak to someone. And right now, the only person he could even think to turn to was the one person he really should be avoiding. After nearly coming to blows with Gillen before...and this...this way his mind was turning so violently toward him...it didn’t seem wise to go see him right now. But there simply _wasn’t_ anyone else. Richter was someone he could get along with as a colleague, but he didn’t feel he could entrust any part of himself to the man. And...it wasn’t that he trusted Gillen, exactly, but he was perceptive; Gillen already knew something was wrong. And truth be told, as the highest in his chain of command it was probably important for him to hear this regardless.

But not right at this moment, not so freshly after such an upsetting, violent train of thought. 

Tenma let himself go through the rest of the day, doing his best to avoid contact with...anyone, everyone, really as much as possible. He waited until his last routine check-in with SCP-441 before finally daring to contact Gillen, sending him a somewhat brief message.

_**T:** When are you available?_

_**T:** I’d like to reschedule our talk._

The niggling whispers in his mind told him that this was a bad idea, that talking to Gillen was only going to get him into more trouble, that he needed to make sure he was armed. Wear a necktie, just in case he needed to improvise. He tried to ignore those thoughts, tried to separate them from himself. He _didn’t_ want to hurt Gillen. He was rescheduling this meeting so that he could talk. So that he could tell Gillen that something was wrong. So that he could look at what options were available, how he should proceed to stop these invasive, horrid thoughts from interfering with his daily goings-on. 

_The fastest way is to listen to it,_ some evil part of his mind whispered. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore it. _it’ll feel better just to hit him, just once. Then maybe again._

Tenma jolted when his pager beeped, his heart leaping up into his throat along with his empty stomach. He clamped a hand over his mouth and managed to swallow, taking a few seconds to breathe, and then a few more to read the response.

_**G:** Thank you for reaching out. I was wondering if you would._

_**G:** I can block off tomorrow afternoon. I’ll let you know when to come by._

Tenma’s heart sank from his throat down, down into his feet and deeper down into the ground. He should have expected something like that, but the idea of...sleeping, dreaming again, and another morning before getting to see Gillen felt incredibly daunting. He sent an affirmative response, but...all he could think about was how he was going to spend those hours before the meeting. 

...

He didn’t remember the night before. The morning was a blur, as though the day simply couldn’t go by fast enough. It felt as though he’d gone fast-forward through the morning to arrive at Gillen’s office; surely he’d tended to a number of patients, but he couldn’t recall even their numbers if he wanted to. Nor did he recall how or when he had made it down the familiar hall to Gillen’s office; he was simply there. Gillen was seated at his desk, and Tenma was standing by the door. He pulled it shut, like usual, and turned toward Gillen, walking toward his desk. The shorter man looked up at him with a furrowed brow, gesturing toward the seat in front of him.

“Take a seat.” he muttered, in that straightforward tone. “You don’t look well.”

He didn’t feel well. He didn’t feel anything. Something felt heavy in his grip, but he didn’t look down. He kept his gaze on Gillen, almost mechanically raising his weighted hand, directing it toward his superior. The man’s mouth fell open into a startled ‘o’ and there was a bang, and then he slouched backward into his chair, and then there was another shot, and one more,

The sound that Tenma made was hardly human, as he bolted upright in bed. His hand clamped hard over his mouth as he slowly acknowledged his dark surroundings, the familiar sights and smells of his quarters. Not the smell of smoke or blood. No desk. No freshly brewed tea. No body. He was in his room. There was no way he could have...he couldn’t have. He didn’t have a gun. More than that, he didn’t know where the armoury was to have grabbed one. No one gave him a gun. Even so he looked; in, under his pillow, under the bed, nothing.

Tenma’s legs felt like jelly as he swiveled them over the edge of the bed, sitting himself upright and stumbling just a little as he made his way toward the adjoining washroom. His hand slid across the wall until he found the lightswitch, and he stumbled toward the sink, splashing cool water over his face with a gasp. He let himself stare at the face in the mirror - tired, weary, sunken-eyed. His hair had grown terribly long in the two, was it two? months he’d been here. He barely recognized the person he was looking at, but he did recognize that this person was afraid. Afraid, and his hands were shaking. Tenma took a slow, deep breath and looked that man in the eye.

 _”No.”_ he ground out, firmly. “No.”

It seemed silly, telling himself something that he already knew. That he would never do something so vile - that he would never _kill_ \- but whatever it was in his mind that kept those thoughts alive surely had to hear him. He wasn’t going to listen. He wasn’t going to become a monster.

But he also...wasn’t going to sleep tonight.

With another shaky sigh, Tenma moved himself back to bed to...to lie down, at least. He still had a day ahead of him. A day that those thoughts could still penetrate his mind, could still stir horrific impulses. He was going to have to prepare himself.

* * *

In truth, Gillen wasn’t expecting Tenma to reach out so soon.

He had definitely been over-stressed when Gillen had called on him the first time, and in part, that fell on Gillen’s shoulders for not noticing. Or rather...it wasn’t an issue of not noticing. He saw it, he just continued to push Tenma further into his corner until the man lashed back. Someone like Tenma...he expected him to simply accept the criticism and move on, but Tenma had refused to be talked over. He was going to have to take a different approach this time. The fact that the doctor himself bothered to reach out was a good start; he’d open up with an apology, something to put them on equal ground.

That was the plan, at least. But as Tenma stepped into his office, Gillen’s brows furrowed and he just...watched. Watched as Tenma pulled the door shut behind him and then leaned his back against it, arms crossed tightly over his body, gaze focused somewhere on the wall over Gillen’s head, not on Gillen himself, his mouth drawn in a line. All extremely defensive, self-protecting attitudes that drew a line of worry to Gillen’s furrowed brow. Slowly, he stood from his seat, stepping away from the desk and around toward Tenma.

“Is...there something I can help you-”

_”Stop.”_

Gillen did as he was asked. He knew when and when not to put rank and superiority into the equation; something was very definitely wrong with Tenma right now and it was certainly best to listen, if it put him at any ease, made him any more willing to talk. So, Gillen took a few steps backward, and froze.

“All right. I’m not coming any closer.” he breathed, speaking softly. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Tenma’s expression shifted, his eyes starting to widen, his lips quivering. Whatever this was about, he looked afraid. Really, genuinely afraid of something - and not in the way that he sometimes feared for the wellbeing of his patients; this was...a tangible fear, something that threatened _him._

“Since...since Johan. Since 5110...I haven’t been feeling myself. It feels…” He broke off, gaze shifting away, letting out a soft gasp of pain. One hand came up to grip at the side of his skull, fingers digging at his scalp. He took a slow, deep breath and shook his head vehemently. “It...it wants me to...to do something. But I wouldn’t. I can’t. I won’t.”

At this rate he was going to work himself into an outright panic attack. Gillen raised both hands placatingly, very much aware that Tenma...had just now mentioned 5110. Though he kept a relative cool as he tried to calm down the other man, Gillen felt a slow and building dread start to hollow out his stomach. Tenma...wasn’t feeling like himself. Ever since meeting 5110...which meant that perhaps he’d been afflicted after all. Tenma needed to be calmed down and questioned, for proper analys-

Before Gillen could so much as ponder just how to get Tenma to calm down enough, the fretting doctor let out another pained sound, pushing himself further into the door, backward along the wall, away from Gillen. Both hands were tearing into his hair now, and his eyes were wet. It almost looked as though he was genuinely trying to cause himself pain, as he doubled inward on himself. He was murmuring under his breath - no, no, repeating the word _no_ over and over again.

Something...terribly human sparked in Gillen, in that moment. Something that resembled that guilt from before, but burned more hotly, and drove him to move. Despite what Tenma told him to do, he was moving, stepping around the table and toward the panicked doctor. He reached forward slowly, placing a hand on Tenma’s shoulder - a gesture that caught his attention, that had Tenma’s gaze snapping up to meet his for the first time since he’d come in this afternoon. And in those eyes was a terribly bright shining fear, a look that only amplified as Gillen tried to steady him.

Tenma shook his head, whispering that _no_ again. And then he…

It happened all too fast for him to really...react, properly. 

One of Tenma’s hands came forward, grabbing hold of his necktie and pulling, hard. Gillen choked, then watched as Tenma...as that fear returned, as tears really did swim into his eyes. He released Gillen’s tie like it had burned him, and...and then he was really, truly panicking, breath quickening, until finally his head lolled to the side, and Tenma simply slumped forward into a bewildered Gillen.

He really...didn’t know. He didn’t know, for sure. But just then, as he’d crouched in front of Tenma...it had seemed as though he was trying to...to strangle Gillen to death. 

He had been insistent that Gillen stay back, had pressed himself into the door since the moment he stepped into Gillen’s office, barely even moved. And what he’d said, about his patient, about 5110...it didn’t sound good. Gillen looked down at the man still slouched into his arms, a very visibly disturbed and upset man that had come to him...had wanted his help. 

Slowly, Gillen sat forward, working on lifting Tenma up by the shoulders - gently, he was visibly unwell this close up. He started toward the door of his office, slinging Tenma’s arm around his shoulders, hoisting the taller man just a little. The medical wing was….a bit of a trek away. But right now...Tenma most definitely needed a doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tenma didn't deserve this and it doesn't get better :(( But basically to explain the choppy fragmented bits Tenma has been fighting with the intrusive thoughts Johan planted in his mind and whenever he starts turning violent he basically tries to shut down his thoughts completely so yeah he's just jumping from moment to moment. Trying not to think.


	6. Erased

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short forenote since I didn't mention this in my initial info piece about the SCP Foundation: a lot of the experiments they do on SCPs involve "D-Class personnel" - basically expendable people, usually pulled from death row. They're pretty much gonna die anyway so why not die helping the Foundation in their tests right? Can I get a Yikes.
> 
> Content warning in this chapter for degrading dehumanization and non-consenting medical procedures. Foundation Bad.

A doctor couldn’t come soon enough, it seemed.

Beyond his stress-induced collapse, Tenma was heavily nutrient-deficient, a sign that he hadn’t been eating much of anything, _if_ he was eating at all. Gillen had certainly noticed the medic slimming down, but he hadn't imagined it was quite this bad. Tenma...was in extremely poor shape, and it was really a surprise he’d gone on for two months as he had. But more importantly, that episode in his office just now...

Tenma’s condition was...atypical, compared with other individuals exposed to 5110’s anomaly. If he hadn’t come forward himself, it was very likely that it simply wouldn’t have been picked up. Tenma’s bout of insanity would simply be written off as a slow madness that overtook him - it wasn’t unheard of, in fact not all that uncommon, for the pressure and strain to be too much to bear. But as Gillen reviewed the scans with the medical examiner, it became apparent that something unusual had taken root in the doctor’s mind. Something _other._

“How much do you know about subject 5110?”

The medical examiner was peering at him tiredly, going over her notes. Gillen already knew much of what he was going to be briefed on, but even so, it didn’t hurt to hear it again. He nodded for her to continue.

“Typically victims of 5110 are afflicted with an idea. That’s...how it works. We call it _geas_ \- an affliction where the listener feels they must oblige the speaker's command. They may or may not be aware of it; as you’ve read in 5110’s victim reports, often once the act is completed the victims no longer recall why they would have done it, and their mental state deteriorates thereafter. Due to the nature of 5110’s anomaly it’s almost impossible to capture an example of it safely; someone has to hear it, and naturally that leads to...violence, or death, in most cases. In some situations the host simply...becomes a husk of themselves. Conscious thought no longer exists. In some of our tests we’ve found that the host starts to become integrated with the anomaly….if the idea is a seed, then it starts to sprout. Take root in the mind. Overrun it, even. Doctor Rose theorizes it's trying to branch out, perhaps duplicate itself in the consciousness of its victims. Though there hasn’t been much luck observing the progress as the subject hosts don’t live very long.”

The danger of 5110 was that its anomaly couldn’t very readily be traced. As the examiner suggested, it was an _idea_ inflicted upon the victim. And if she was implying that had happened to Tenma...then it was a miracle he had been functional at all. Gillen had supervised a number of the tests with 5110; even to him, they felt almost cruel. Certainly it wasn't the most _hostile_ environment the D-Class were exposed to, but it was particularly unpleasant to watch as their minds were eaten away within hours of exposure to 5110’s anomaly. Gillen looked back toward Tenma, then toward the examiner.

“How is it that he didn’t exhibit any of the usual symptoms?”

She lifted her head, her own expression a bit uncertain as she addressed Gillen, her posture loose and not quite as confident as before.

“We don’t have the technology to pin something like that with absolute certainty. Though from the tests, I might have a theory. It has to do with the attitude of the subjects put in contact with 5110. For example, D-224 was an arsonist responsible for mass destruction in two heavily populated cities. On the other hand, D-021 saw his actions as righteous. It took 021 almost an hour to start exhibiting symptoms, where 224 was already deteriorating by 45 minutes of exposure to 5110.”

“Then Tenma isn’t showing signs because he...isn’t criminally inclined?”

Gillen recalled just how anxious the doctor had been, how absolutely opposed he was to Gillen coming any closer. He...he’d _known,_ he’d felt the impulses, but he had the mental faculties to keep himself away from his superior. So whatever it was that was eating away at Tenma’s mind...he was still in control of it, even then. The woman affirmed it with a slight nod, though she herself had made it clear it was only a theory.

“All I can say is that the nature of 5110’s victims can make them more or less susceptible to its geas. At what time did he approach you concerning these invasive thoughts he was having?”

Gillen opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. _Just now_ wasn’t correct. Tenma had...Tenma had reached out to him the day before, early in the afternoon. At the time he’d had an important briefing to the board of directors and he had to prepare for it, but knowing what he did now, that Tenma had been dealing with...with _this,_ a sense of guilt made itself apparent. Had he postponed the briefing, this could have been prevented. Or at least it wouldn't have been as severe as- 

“Doctor Gillen?”

He blinked, clearing his throat as he brought himself back to the present, to the exhausted-looking examiner who was expecting an answer. “He wanted to speak with me yesterday afternoon.”

“And when did he first make contact with 5110?”

“Two days before that.”

To Gillen, it felt as though the entire sequence of events had only just happened, but now that he was thinking about it in the context of how quickly 5110’s anomaly typically affected its victims...Tenma was on his fourth day. Four days...in that time, even the longest-lived subjects from 5110’s experiments would have died several times over. Once more, his gaze drifted to the unconscious, oddly restful appearance of the doctor. The woman presiding over him had walked over to her monitor, typing information into a form. Gillen left her to her work. 

“Would you say that the patient was exhibiting any of these atypical symptoms before this latest exposure to 5110? Considering that your report indicates they were acquired together.”

Gillen’s face wrinkled just a little. Tenma...Tenma wasn’t _acquired._ Rather, he forcibly thrust himself into the Foundation, driven by some troublesome moral ideal that he needed to care for his patient in this place. If he simply hadn’t been so insistent, then none of this…

“No. Nothing like that. From what I understand, 5110 was unconscious the whole time they spent together. He was under Doctor Tenma’s care.” He paused, felt a question on his tongue that he knew he shouldn’t ask. He asked it anyway. “What’s your prognosis?”

Her prognosis wasn’t his concern. Tenma was her patient now, nothing he should be worrying about. What happened to Tenma from here on was no longer the business of the chief of research division C. Tenma was a faulty cog in the machine; either he could be repaired and returned or he would have to be terminated. Gillen would be notified which was the end result and adjust his teams to compensate. That was how things were done here. But this doctor in particular, somehow...Tenma, the one who was never meant to be with them to begin with had shaken him.

“Unfortunately…”

Gillen felt that word, just one word. _Unfortunately._ He knew damn well he shouldn’t have asked. Even so he kept listening.

“...there isn’t much we’re able to do at this point. Once the mind’s been seeded, all we can do is let it run its course. 5110-1 is likely to live for at least a week longer, possibly two given the time it’s taken to respond to the anomaly. Though it’s worth noting that sleep does seem to freeze the process. The anomaly only seems to affect the conscious mind.”

It was at least some small relief that Tenma wasn’t currently getting any worse. Even if he was just going to suffer when he woke...

Gillen stopped.

For a moment, he didn't say anything. He turned over what the examiner had said in his mind. What was _wrong_ in what she’d just said.

“And your recommendation is…?”

She looked at him, then gestured toward her computer console. Gillen stepped away from Tenma to glance at what she’d written, and felt an unsettled sickness as his fears were confirmed. Those questions she'd been asking, and the way she had addressed Tenma just now...Gillen felt queasy. This...this wasn’t a patient report. It was the beginnings of an SCP dossier, titled 5110-1.

She was writing a recommendation to have Tenma reduced to a…

“While we can’t do anything for the host, we have a rare opportunity to observe 5110's anomaly in a living specimen. The amount of information it could provide for us could help us put a dent in understanding 5110’s geas more clearly. If we can observe it in effect on 5110-1 while it’s still in control of its mental faculties, we might be able to isolate what part of the mind is afflicted by the anomaly and how it can be separated. Until then my recommendation would be to have the specimen kept unconscious between tests, to preserve its life expectancy as long as possible.”

That was a logical course of action. If it was so rare for subjects to survive an encounter with 5110, then this was a practical choice for a host likely to die in the short term. It would give the Foundation an opportunity to study in more depth just what 5110’s anomaly was capable of, where its limits were. Seeing it interact with a host resistant to its effects could provide a rich array of data. But…

“I’m not so sure about that.”

Gillen was already speaking. That seemed to happen, when Tenma was involved: he started to speak before he took the time to think, before he considered what it was he was saying. With Tenma lying there voiceless to his fate, Gillen felt a compulsion to say _something._ He knew that he was slipping, that this wasn’t about professionalism, that this was something he shouldn’t be allowing himself to indulge. Even so, looking at Tenma, who could do nothing to defend himself…

“He’s still under my jurisdiction, so I have to sign off on any official order to have him committed for testing. I’d like to make sure all avenues are examined before I agree to give him to Doctor Rose's research.”

There was an odd prickling sensation Gillen felt under his skin, though he maintained a severe, professional gaze as the examiner seemed to take his words with...uncertainty, but without questioning him on it, and of that he was glad. The truth of it was that Gillen had let himself fall into an uncomfortable place, where Tenma was concerned. He'd lost any sense of impartiality he might've had, in the beginning.

His “project”...that was what Tenma had been at first. He was a surprise, to say the least, and Gillen was curious to see if he would last. He became a topic of intrigue, something of a mystery to the chief of research; by all accounts, someone with Tenma's behavioural profile should never have integrated with the Foundation as well as he did. Of course...it was wholly apparent now that he _wasn’t_ surviving; in this fragile and deficient state, he was probably only barely keeping himself together. It just happened that he had a venir of calm to keep the inner turmoil at bay. And Gillen, for his part...

Maybe it was because Tenma had joined the Foundation under his guidance and supervision. Maybe it was because he allowed such an exception into their staff fully well knowing that it probably wouldn’t end in the doctor’s favour. And maybe a part of it was because of how desperate Tenma had looked when he fell to pieces in his superior's office, terrified of the thoughts that filled his mind, terrified of hurting Gillen. All of those factors coloured Gillen's perspective. He didn't like what he was seeing, the recommendation being presented to him. The concept of allowing a member of his staff, someone whose face he was altogether familiar with, to be…utterly stripped of his humanity and _used…_

Tenma had come to him because he needed help. For Gillen to declare him a lost cause and leave him to be slowly killed by the poison inside him while doctors analyzed him coldly left a queasy feeling in Gillen’s stomach. It felt like a betrayal to someone who he’d...given the tools to join an organization he simply wasn’t ready for.

The woman seemed to grow tired of waiting for him to continue, returning to finishing with her request. She didn’t look at him when she spoke.

“The only other viable option is to have him terminated. However, I’m making my official recommendation for the former alternative. Immediate termination would be wasteful, and it’s possible that before it dies, 5110-1 could provide the information we need to extract the anomaly without causing damage to its mind.” She peered over her shoulder at Gillen, who in turn was staring at Tenma with a truly lost expression on his face. “When the paperwork is completed, I’ll have the order sent to your office for approval.”

* * *

Terminated, or reassigned for testing. Those were the only options available to doctor Tenma now, and Gillen, for pulling rank, was responsible to give the final order.

This wasn’t the first time he'd had to make this sort of call; situations arose within the Foundation - medics critically injured while attending their charges were hardly a rare occurrence. Gillen would receive reports, along with the recommended action, and approve them logically; if there was any possibility of recovery, he didn’t mind fighting the board of directors to allow that chance. If there was absolutely nothing to be done, then his decision came down to circumstance; was the threat to the victim’s life a threat to anyone else? Could they conceivably provide any use to the researchers? Sometimes he signed off on a termination order, sometimes he had them reassigned for research. He was never directly involved with the victims, and it was easy to make the most logical decision. This was different, because the victim had a _face._ A name. A human being that he knew.

Tenma had collapsed into his arms, desperate for help but afraid to harm. This situation was anything _but_ objective and detached. The _correct_ approach would be to defer his judgement - to have another section head review the situation and make the final call. But Gillen couldn’t stop thinking about...about the little things, really. The way Tenma’s hands were shaking, how light his body felt, and how warm it was. That was what a human felt like. So very rarely did Gillen feel anything as intimately human as a simple touch, let alone an embrace, however unusual it had been.

Terminate, or subjugate? That person, _his responsibility,_ was now...about to be killed or used in as many experiments as could be squeezed out of him before there was nothing left.

Gillen didn’t want to sign off on either recommendation. Not when he knew who Tenma was, well enough to know his face only from hearing the name. The rational part of him said that Tenma was a skilled doctor - that if there was even a single possibility, saving him would benefit the Foundation. Of course, that wasn’t the reason he wanted to save Tenma’s life. It made for a convenient excuse, and something he could draw from. If he could come up with anything at all, a way to keep Tenma alive, then perhaps he could fight for a third option.

He didn’t have long. Management needed his orders by the end of the day, and if he didn’t supply an answer, they would probably take the recommendation by default. 

But the more he pored over Tenma’s readings, the more it became apparent that...there was nothing he could do to make this palatable. Oh, after a few hours of tearing into his brain he _had_ a third option, but it was as tasteless as the rest, made worse by the fact that he was going to have to draft the recommendation and present it as his own idea. It wasn’t something that he wanted to do, not like this. But if the alternative meant that Tenma was going to die...he _didn’t_ have any other choice. He didn’t even know if this new idea of his would be accepted. But, as unpalatable as it all was, he had to try.

Gillen was, if nothing else, _good_ at talking, at presenting arguments. He had an uncanny ability to communicate strong talking points in exactly the ways that higher-ups _wanted_ to hear them. It came with the territory of specializing in psychology; he had an unfair advantage, knew how others wanted to hear him to better receive his words. It was to his benefit that he didn’t need to stretch the truth very much, if at all. So, he put himself before the towering puppets of the directorial board and gave them what they wanted to hear.

“Concerning the handling of 5110-1, I had a theory I wanted to try. Recognizing the usefulness of 5110-1, I’m sure you understand why I might be hesitant to sign off on a plan that will result in...his death, within a week or two at the latest. What I’d like to suggest is a memory suppression technique. A test we can run first, and if it doesn’t work, then I’ll authorize the recommended procedure.”

It felt like he was talking to a very imposing brick wall. If he imagined it as exactly that, the board of directors was easier to face. Just a brick wall, one that was holding the fabric of this facility under its weight, and the fate of one medic crushed under mortar.

“What I’m suggesting is that we modify the serum used during memory erasure. Rather than a complete memory wipe, my intent is to target memory engrams specific to subject 5110. Given that we’ve identified that 5110’s anomalous nature directly afflicts thought patterns, my hypothesis is that suppressing all traces of that encounter _should_ nullify its effect. The anomaly would still exist in his mind, but with no active presence. In effect, it would become dormant. And if my theory is incorrect, then 5110-1 will simply be put in stasis and committed for testing, per the original request.” He narrowed his eyes at the faces that narrowed back at him. “I don’t think it’s much to ask, and it allows us to test both the precision of our current memory suppression techniques and offers us the chance to learn whether or not 5110’s anomaly can be negated.”

He didn’t get an immediate answer, but he didn’t expect it, either. They very rarely answered immediately. But it did leave Gillen with hours of time to...ponder, and to mull over exactly what it was he’d set in motion. He took his thoughts to the senior staff’s break room, content to eat and think in his own company, but he found himself joined by, of all people, doctor Richter.

It wasn’t that he had any disdain toward the man, but the two of them spoke only in the most professional capacity. That was the proper way for cohorts to conduct themselves. But the look on Richter’s face seemed to be one somewhat less than blind professionalism. He looked troubled, if Gillen could pin a word to it. Even so, he didn’t speak, at first; he simply took a seat opposite to Gillen and ate his soup. It smelled like nothing, tasted like water; Gillen knew, because his tea was the same, and so was just about every meal offered in the facility. The two sat in silence with their tasteless meals, seemingly both waiting for the other to speak first. Gillen had invited no conversation; he had nothing to oblige the man to begin with. Eventually, Richter did finally concede - with an annoyed huff, to make sure his mood was known.

“I was told that you overturned the ruling for doctor Tenma. The examiner made mention of it.”

It was a suitably conversational start. Gillen, however, was not in a conversational mood.

“I did.”

That curt response seemed to draw somewhat genuine ire, and the senior medic narrowed his gaze, losing some of his diplomatic sheen as he frowned at Gillen. “So, what is it then? What can we do to salvage him?”

Gillen knew that there _was_ genuine care to the senior medic’s words, that he really did like Tenma. But that language, just then, seemed particularly cold. _Things_ were salvaged. Gillen narrowed his eyes at his tea, using it as a sink for his miserable emotions and even more miserable thoughts. The person looking back at him had said the very same things, in the past.

“Scrub him. Isolate the memory engrams and suppress them. It’s all I could think of.”

“Do you think it can be that accurate? Isolating something specific like that...”

No. He didn’t. But..

“The probability is greater than zero. With the plan that was given to me, Tenma’s life expectancy was two weeks at best. I want to give him a chance to live. Even if it means…”

Gillen trailed off, gaze narrowing even sharper into his tea, his chest clenching with something more anguished. He dared not speak any more or else run the risk of any emotion seeping through the cracks. He’d displayed more than enough as it was.

But the reality of the situation was that Gillen didn’t know if this was going to work. Suppressing memories was something typically done as a single sweep, erasing all memories relevant to the Foundation to allow victims of SCP encounters to return to a normal life without any recollection of their experiences. That simply wasn’t viable for Tenma; his vehement unwillingness to be returned to his life as a doctor notwithstanding, Tenma was now the carrier of 5110’s anomaly; in simple truth, he couldn’t be allowed to leave, even if he wanted to. Not unless a way to extract the anomaly could be discovered. 

“He may not remember much of his time here. It could be that he’ll have to be retrained. If this even works. If they even _allow_ it. But I guess it’s like you said. We don’t have any other alternatives.”

Seemingly satisfied with his answers and perhaps a bit bothered by Gillen’s angry staring at his tea, the man finally took his leave, which allowed lonely company to stew a bit more earnestly on his thoughts. Gillen had opened a can of worms he didn’t want to open. Not because of the risks; those certainly bothered him, but it wasn’t the root of his frustration. What was burning at him with such an angry twist in his gut was the fact that 5110 - that _Johan_ \- was Tenma’s entire reason for wanting to join the Foundation. He had fought Gillen’s recommendation, had sought avenues to get himself hired in as a medic, just so that he could keep an eye on his former patient. And now…

Now that patient had to be removed from his mind. Johan Liebert, 5110, the scuffle of theirs, none of it would exist in Tenma’s active memories any longer. What Gillen had put onto the table - what he himself had suggested - was effectively the erasure of Tenma’s conscious will to work for them. Not only was Tenma no longer able to leave; the very reason he’d fought so hard to stay simply wouldn’t exist any more. And what did that make Tenma, then? A prisoner unaware that he was watched, that he was being held in a place he loathed. Perhaps even unaware of his loathing, if the procedure didn’t go smoothly. If it worked at all.

It felt deceptive, wrong. As though Johan had simply been a lure used to draw Tenma in, only to be removed from his mind, transforming Tenma into a skilled, unknowing working drone in a carefully maintained machine. Spirited away into a world he had no desire to be a part of, Tenma had become an immovable piece of its structure, a victim of compounded circumstances. And _Gillen_ bore the blame for all of it.

He drained the remaining half of his now-cold tea. Whatever appetite he had for the stuff was gone. He let himself stew in frustration, making his way back to his office and parking himself in his stiff chair in front of his chirping, humming, clicking computer console. He let himself focus on work - which helped, it did, but there was still that gnawing annoyance in the back of his mind, berating him - he’d had the gall to stand Tenma in his office and lecture him about consequences when he was really the one who needed that talk. He wasn’t performing adequately as a supervisor to his team, if he let an incident like this happen under his watch.

It was impossible to make a full recovery from Tenma’s condition. Gillen had to accept that and hope that the Foundation would allow him to carry out the next closest thing, ugly though it was. He made a private report for himself - a proper documentation of the incident. It was the least that he could do, to ensure that he held himself accountable. His uppers wouldn’t, he already knew that; Tenma was a replaceable entity - a very efficient medic, but replaceable. Gillen on the other hand was valued. While he might be watched more carefully to ensure he was properly disciplining his staff, he wouldn’t receive any noteworthy form of reprimand.

At this point, the best he could do was improve. _Be better_ was a terribly nebulous goal with no end to it, but if he was going to prevent this sort of mess from repeating itself, that nebulous goal was what he needed to reach for. _Be better_ \- as a supervisor, as a leader, as a member of a team. Simply as a person.

* * *

It seemed so strange, seeing Tenma lying on that bio-bed, hooked up to various scanners and neural transmitters that typically only saw use in the process of restoring victims of SCP encounters. Even now, a proper memory rewrite took hours; properly suppressing memory engrams was still a difficult process, even with the Foundation’s medical advancements. The process he had theorized for Tenma, more complex in nature, was going to take longer still. 

Ordinarily Gillen would have nothing to do with the procedure, nor would he be interested to observe. This was the home of medical specialists, whose expertise went far beyond any of Gillen’s knowledge in medicine. But, this process had been his suggestion. By definition, this was not a medical or corrective procedure for doctor Tenma’s benefit; it was research, a test based on his own theory concerning the relationship between conscious memory and 5110’s anomaly. Gillen, then, was the research lead supervising his test on 5110-1, the SCP product created by a medic’s encounter with 5110. In this room, doctor Tenma was but a number. Even so, Gillen couldn’t fully divest himself of the human imprint Tenma had left in his mind. Within Gillen's own quietly-kept thoughts, the individual lying asleep on the prepared bio-bed was doctor Kenzo Tenma.

“Initial scan complete. Isolating engram clusters in 2 hour intervals, moving backward until the point of subject’s first contact with 5110. Initiating a simulated suppression.”

There was a low hum as the scanners began to predict the data stream, the information transmitting to the main computer, which superimposed the data received into a visual spread on a large overhead screen. While Gillen didn’t fully grasp what the lines, colours and numbers represented, he did recognize that there was a lot of red, and that generally wasn’t a good sign. The lead medic narrowed her eyes and went back to run a few computations, transforming the display as she went. Gillen felt tension starting to build.

“What exactly are we looking at?”

Accustomed to being in a room full of individuals with the appropriate knowledge, no doubt the medic didn’t think to explain what was displayed on the screen. She looked up, then flicked her gaze toward one of the assistants, who cleared his throat.

“The red markers represent clusters of memory engrams that would be suppressed in this simulation. Normally this would be a normal threshold, but not for what we’re trying to achieve this time...this much suppression would erase most of the subject’s experiences since starting at the facility and could cause unresolved memory fragmentation. That’s not necessarily a _problem_ , but when the mind has unresolved memories, it starts to manufacture narratives to fill those holes. In the long term it could result in the creation of false memories. Right now we’re trying to narrow the parameters in the sweep. It’s not as though we can simply isolate which memory engrams are directly related to 5110...and the subject’s attachment to 5110 makes it difficult to know if we’ve completely isolated everything. This procedure may require multiple installments, if we want to ensure a clean suppression without cutting away anything in excess.”

Gillen didn’t know that he liked what he was hearing. He couldn’t fully understand it all, but it sounded as though there was a good chance that Tenma might...simply have a hollowed-out memory, when this was through. Hazy, half-remembered things. What would be kept, and what wouldn't? Faces, names? Would he still know who he reported to? And the idea of pushing this into multiple installments…

“His...the subject’s vitals haven’t dropped since he was sedated, but we don’t know if that’s going to last. If you’re advising multiple installments, what sort of wait time are you expecting?”

The assistant didn’t seem comfortable to answer. Instead he turned his gaze back to the head medic, who was still plugging away at the scan results. The overhead projection looked a little less red, which was probably a good sign. Gillen still didn’t really know. The woman paused, though, long enough to look over the rest of the team with an unemotive blink.

“Three days. One installment every eighteen hours. The subject will have to be kept in suspension during that time, and its vitals monitored. We’ll begin with the most prominent clusters - the point of first contact and the direct encounter with 5110 that resulted in the subject’s affliction. Muting the root memories should allow us to make the following installments more accurate.”

She stopped, giving Gillen some time to process it. He narrowed his eyes, glancing up at the monitor again. “...And why eighteen hours? Why the stagger?”

She seemed to be waiting for that question, by how quickly she squared off to speak.

“Eighteen hours will give it time to reorganize its memories. The second sweep should have a far lesser impact, as the subject’s mind should have already begun to fill the holes with plausible information during the first rest period. Speaking to it while unconscious may help encourage the subject’s mind even further. The last two sweeps are effectively cleanup, reducing any leftover, stray shadows of memory to ensure there’s nothing left that could undo our work.”

As much as Gillen had difficulty with the technical aspects of these tests, he did at least understand the psychological side of it. Faced with a hole in his memory, Tenma was likely either to - as suggested - fill in the blanks, or simply black out that area entirely. The complete compartmentalization of memory was a defense mechanism used by many, even within the Foundation. During psychological evaluations, his patients squared away entire events from their conscious mind to keep from losing themselves to the trauma. And if that was something they could use to their advantage to help Tenma reconstruct his mind...then so be it. 

“Your plan is sound.” he remarked finally, his gaze drifting back toward Tenma, eerily serene as he lay silently in blissful ignorance. “There’s still no telling whether or not 5110’s anomaly will be suppressed, even after all of this, but I think this plan might be the closest thing we’ve got.”

There was another soft hum as the scanners were recalibrated, as a new reading was taken with a new simulated projection under the new multiple-installment parameters. The segments of memory affected were now much fewer than before, much easier to work with.

“Ready to begin, sir.”

Gillen swallowed the heavy guilt caught in his throat. For now he left it ignored. He’d deal with that ugly bubbling feeling later.

“Proceed.”

* * *

_The test concerning 5110-1 has been marked partially successful. Until it can be observed consciously, we won’t know whether or not 5110’s anomalous property was successfully suppressed. To this end, you are to take charge of monitoring its progress. It should be kept under close surveillance for the first month. If it exhibits behaviours recorded in 5110’s victims, it is to be immediately sedated and reassigned to doctor Rose for further research into its affliction._

_Due to the nature of this assignment, 5110-1’s file will be scrubbed from the database, with only the original kept in records for our information, and reinstatement should the procedure have failed. Please ensure that when interacting with 5110-1, he is addressed as Doctor Tenma. Do not let on that he is under observation. Please advise involved staff of this ruling._

The medical wing wasn’t far from Gillen's office; long enough that he had time to sort his thoughts, but not quite long enough as to get lost in them. Gillen found it easier to breathe once he’d left his own stuffy corridor for the wider medical wing, despite passing several armed guards, with those ominous visors masking their faces; altogether he’d not felt quite so at ease in the last week, perhaps more. Tenma was finally awake, after nearly a full six days unconscious, under constant surveillance and treatment from the medical team. It wasn’t over, of course; they still had yet to determine whether 5110’s affliction had been put to rest through their efforts. But right now, it just felt _good,_ knowing that he could call him Tenma again, that as far as he - as everyone - need know, he was simply a doctor who had gotten into a bad accident on duty.

The guilt was still there, if numbly; Gillen didn’t expect that would really, properly leave. Not when he was the hand directly responsible for altering Tenma’s mind, and now had to lie through his teeth to the man whose memories were taken from him. Memory...that was something so core to one’s state of simply _being._

He found himself only somewhat hesitant as he reached the door to Tenma’s room, swiping his card, watching the light turn green, watching the door slide open. In an odd way, it all felt surreal. 

This would be his first time speaking to Tenma while he was conscious, since the incident. There was no telling how much he would remember of their encounters. It was possible the man wouldn’t even recognize Gillen; he almost hoped that were true, it would make the lying easier, if he didn’t know. But as he entered, Tenma’s face was one of surprise and definite recognition. He stiffened in bed, mouth falling open, though he didn’t speak at first, simply watching as Gillen pulled up the visitor’s chair and sat down by his bedside. When it became clear that Tenma wasn’t going to initiate conversation, Gillen sat forward and...tried to smile, a little.

“It’s good to see you awake, Tenma. Do you recognize me?”

He was quick to nod. The look on his face betrayed surprise, but not much else. Whatever he felt about seeing Gillen was kept under careful wraps, or...more likely, he was simply too tired to feel much of anything. Gillen breathed in slowly, heaving a soft sigh.

“How are you feeling?”

It was a simple place to start. Tenma furrowed his brow, blinking slowly, like his eyelids were still heavy. They probably were. But, the fact that he hadn’t shown any sort of anger toward Gillen’s presence, or stress, or anything of the sort was probably a good sign. It was definitely too early to know, but it was better than Tenma lurching out of bed trying to throttle him.

“Exhausted. Foggy…I don’t know...” Tenma tilted his head, getting a better look at Gillen as he tried to push himself a little more upright, only to settle back as he was before, simply lying back in bed, a sheepish flush warming his face for a few seconds. “What happened?”

Gillen was ready for this particular question. He’d taken time to formulate his narrative carefully. There was truth to it, enough that Tenma’s mind wouldn’t question it in this state. But the narrative he built was vague enough that he could fill the rest in himself, or...well, there was no knowing what would happen. This was the first time the Foundation tried to rebuild vacant memories like this. There was always the possibility the past two months would remain a blank, uncertain void in his mind. 

“There was an incident with one of your patients. We couldn’t pull you out in time; there’s nothing physically wrong with you, but there’s a good chance that you’ve lost a portion of your recent memory. It’s...something you may continue to struggle with. We don’t know how extensive it is or if it’s permanent. We did what we could to get you stabilized.” 

Tenma nodded slowly, taking a moment to absorb what was said. He didn’t seem to be questioning any of it, even looked comforted by the simplicity of the statement. Tenma was taking him so easily at his word. The medic drew in a long, slow, lazy breath and tilted his head back, lashes fluttering as he shifted again, this time having a bit better success as he pushed himself up just a little, using the pillow behind him for support. When he opened his eyes again, he looked a little more aware.

“How long was I...was I…” He glanced around the room, trailing off as though lost for words just for the moment. Gillen could guess what he was asking regardless.

“Just under a week. You were kept in an induced sleep during that time. You’re probably still going to feel the effects of the drugs for a few hours, so try to take it easy.”

Again Tenma nodded, with that same unemotive expression. After a few moments, he did grow a little bit...stiff, his gaze lowering to his lap as he sat up a little more properly. Hands fisted in his lap again, then slowly relaxed.

“Am I going to be all right?”

Gillen _wasn’t_ prepared for a question like that.

He found his own gaze slipping away from Tenma, down into his lap. He felt that creeping guilt start to show itself and closed his eyes, counting down. When he hit zero, those crawling feelings were numbed, and he looked back up toward Tenma. 

“I don’t know. As I said, physically you’re fine. Mentally...it’s going to take time. I don’t know. The medical team advised me you could be released in a few days, so you’ll be well enough to go about your daily life. But there could still be complications. We just don’t know.”

Tenma looked at least a little relieved by the answer, blinking again and relaxing his posture.

“I can return to...my work. As a medic.”

“That’s right. Although…” Gillen was quick to reaffirm Tenma’s shaky memory, stabilize what he could, and...start to build in his narrative, once again. “Because of your condition, I’ve decided that for the time being, it would be best to keep you paired with someone else while on active duty. You won’t be assigned to any solo jobs for a while I’m afraid.”

It was a sensible choice, given that – quite truly – there was no way to know what might happen to Tenma’s mental state right now. And at least this way, Tenma could postulate that any extensive observation of his work was a result of this ambiguous incident he faced, and had nothing to do with the fact that, as of this moment, he was still the subject of an ongoing test, and – more importantly – his breach of trust simply did not _allow_ for him to take any solo jobs right now. He would have to earn that back from scratch. Though, bitterly, Gillen had a feeling that he really would work toward Gillen’s trust this time, without the foreknowledge of his former patient. A Tenma without his original motive was a man who truly could benefit the Foundation. Even so that didn’t ease how uncomfortable, disturbing, it made Gillen feel.

“I was also planning to schedule short term evaluations with you. Nothing like your interview, just rudimentary tests to map your recovery progress. They would happen at a week to week basis, unless something extreme were to happen and I need to see you immediately. And…” He paused, his brows knitting as he regarded the doctor. “Don’t hesitate to contact me, if you’re feeling strange. It’s a part of my job to look after the mental wellness of my team. I need you to tell me, if something isn’t right.”

There was a short pause and…Gillen wasn’t sure what he was _expecting,_ but the gentle curve of Tenma’s lips into a smile, the near-sparkling look in his eyes, certainly were not what he anticipated. He felt overwhelmed by the both of them, a faint thudding in his chest forcing him to blink and glance away.

“Thank you, doctor Gillen. Even if I'm not entirely sure what's happened...I really do appreciate…this, all of this.”

The softened character to his voice was something Gillen hadn’t heard before. This side of Tenma…was alien, was new, to him. A man who was gently smiling at _him,_ expressing gratitude and respect to his superior, even exuded a warm energy of encouragement. It wasn’t something that Gillen knew how to handle. It left him uneasy, unsteady, clouded his already bothered mind.

Gillen cleared his throat, coughed, and stood - perhaps a bit abruptly, by the way Tenma startled just then. He blinked a few times as he tried to meet Tenma’s gaze, intimidating warmth that it was. “If that’s it, then…I think I should…I’d best be going.”

He came across more gruffly than he meant to, killing the delicate smile that had found Tenma’s lips, turning it into something somberly neutral. He didn’t have time to think about that right now, and turned toward the door with his hand shoved into his pocket. He drew out his key card, taking a slow, deep breath to relax his mind as he made his way to the exit.

“Doctor Gillen, I…”

Gillen stopped, turning back around to face Tenma, lowering his card away from the pad. He blinked, taking in the concerned look in those hazy eyes. Tenma’s fingers curled in his lap, hands drawing into fists once more.

“I’m sorry.”

Gillen felt something heavy settle in his stomach, his mouth drawing into a frown, brows creasing. There was only one thing he could be apologetic for right now. If he remembered that, then it could mean there were still residual memory traces floating about in his mind.

“For what?”

He tried a tentative approach, somewhat genuine in his uncertainty. The look that Tenma fixed him with was distant and lost, a little scared. A little like the look he’d had in Gillen's office the day this entire ordeal had begun. 

“I don’t know.”

Quiet hesitance. The fear of not knowing. It almost felt worse, this way. Even if Tenma’s memories of those events were gone, he could still feel the guilt, the fear, the pain surrounding it all. He was apologising for something that...ultimately, that wasn’t his fault. That couldn’t possibly be his fault, when Gillen was the one who set it all in motion, put those pieces in place. He stepped away from the door, back toward the doctor, pocketing his card. Acting without thought, he reached out and took one of Tenma’s curled, tense hands.

“It’s all right. Don’t worry about it. About...whatever it is, that you’re sorry for.”

For just a moment, it was quiet. Tenma didn’t seem to know what to do or say to that, his gaze going from the light grip of Gillen’s hand up to his face, reading for...something. Gillen didn’t know what he was trying to find. He just held onto that smaller hand, just for a moment, before reality seemed to kick in and he drew away almost as though Tenma had pricked him.

Gillen took a long, slow breath in, letting it out, aware of the slight uptick in his heartbeat for just that split second. He swallowed hard and put that out of his mind. He had to get going, or else he wasn’t going to have time to finish his reports. Stuffing both hands into his pockets, Gillen straightened and backed toward the door again.

“In any case...I’ll be seeing you. The nurses can be reached, if there’s anything you need.”

It wasn’t the exit he wanted, it felt awkward and uncomfortable and caged, but it was all he could manage right in that moment. Without waiting for an answer, Gillen turned back toward the door and left, barely catching a quiet _thank you_ from Tenma on the way out.

The reports. He needed to focus on his reports.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gillen in this AU is not a great person but damn I feel for him here...he got stuck in a real bad place. He's starting to learn what being a human is like again and I kind of ache because I feel like when _he_ first started working for the Foundation he was like...not the vocal idealist that Tenma is, but certainly humanizing to the SCPs and just over time it got crushed out of him and now it's starting to come back because Tenma is infectious...Gillen did a lot of reflecting and growing in this chapter and it is a bad environment to be anything less than a machine.


	7. Bloodstains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing worth warning really, tho there Is some unsettling violence at the end of the chapter.

Tenma’s world had grown hazy, over time. Hazy, but manageable. It was something he was almost glad of, the constant fog that echoed in his brain. It helped the harder days to pass. Even now, eight months strong in the Foundation, he still felt freshly wounded when one of the subjects was lost. Though perhaps that had to do with certain trends that he noticed. Things that could be fixed, if they were ever addressed. 

More than half of the fatal encounters recorded either by himself or his team had very little to do with the subjects themselves; the guards, whose mandate was to protect the medics and researchers, simply weren’t well suited for a situation that could be solved with words rather than guns. Most recently, the termination of SCP-466, the file for which he was finally reading as submitted by a junior medic, was a perfect example.

According to the report, 466 only became aggressive when it was approached. 466 was a particularly fretful case; she had grown to trust the head researcher assigned to her, but when the doctor was injured on another assignment, a newer recruit had been allotted - and while he had been a good fit technically speaking, 466 was in a state of elevated stress because of a new, unfamiliar face. There was no reason for the situation to have escalated into violence; there were measures in place to ensure that _didn’t_ happen, documented on its SCP file. But between the work of a novice researcher and the eager trigger finger of the guards, 466 was shot several times, ultimately resulting in her death.

If it were a one-off event, Tenma wouldn’t become so riled as he did. Losing them in such a horrible way was tragic, and a loss of life could never be reclaimed no matter how others might try to reason with him, but this wasn’t just simply a tragedy. It was observed and frequent violence that went unchecked. In his eight...or nine? - really, Tenma didn’t know - months within the Foundaton he’d personally observed just over fifty guard-related incidents, more than half of which were fatal. And that was within his section alone, and only since he took over for the late doctor Richter. Data from before wasn’t as meticulously kept, but even then, if he were to peruse the archives, it wasn’t hard to tell when the guards were getting a little too aggressive.

It had taken time, but Tenma was finally putting together a case to bring to doctor Gillen.

Tenma didn’t know when exactly it was he first started trusting Gillen, but sometime during his employment the two had gotten to become something...not quite friends, he wasn’t sure if he could use that to describe his relationship to a superior, but they certainly had an _understanding_ of one another. And Tenma was well aware that in some ways, doctor Gillen was the only reason he was able to operate in the way that he did. Tenma knew about the reports - comments about his behaviour toward the SCPs being too humanizing, that his way of thinking could risk contamination. Tenma couldn’t say why exactly, but those reports were never brought up during meetings with his superior. They simply occupied a small notation in his performance record - _irregular behaviour toward subject SCPs_ \- and no more than that.

Perhaps it was that understanding they shared, their...cautious, if amicable relationship, that brought Tenma to be so bold. Gillen was, after all, only one step below the directorial board; jumping one more level with his complaints meant addressing the top brass of the Berlin facility outright, something that was unthinkable for _senior_ medical staff, let alone someone at his level. But somehow, Gillen didn’t seem intimidating.

It had been a few months since his psychological evaluations with Gillen had stopped, but his office was still familiar, almost comfortable - at least in the sense that he didn’t feel as though he was suffocating the way the halls tended to crowd him at times. Gillen no longer prompted him when he entered; Tenma simply shut the door neatly behind him and sat down. Gillen had coffee brewed, thoughtful as a gesture though Tenma didn’t particularly think that caffeine was a good idea in such an anxious state. He nodded curtly, clutching the thick blue folder under his arm, laying it almost reluctantly on the table. Gillen still didn’t speak, calmly waiting for him to begin.

“I…” He swallowed, taking a deep breath and letting it out again, making sure his voice was even. “I assume you heard about 466.” 

Gillen sighed softly, nodding. The look on his face was plain: that he knew where this was going, but why wouldn’t he? This wasn’t the first time Tenma had brought the issue to the table. Likely it wouldn’t be the last. The man gripped his cup and drew it to his lips, taking a sip, taking a moment to formulate his own response. When he set the cup down, his gaze was a little sharper, a little more direct.

“I haven’t read the report, but yes. I’m roughly aware of the situation. I assume the serials of the guards culpable were marked into the report?”

Tenma nodded, his eyes narrowing, one hand curling into a tense fist. “I’ve been trying to track them. I keep a record of the incidents these guards have been involved in. One of them...the one who instigated the altercation has been marked down several times already. Four times in fatal incidents. Several reports from research staff indicate his behaviour is excessively aggressive, that at times it’s interfered with tests. He isn’t the only one. There are others - not involved in 466’s case, but others over the last few months - who show up on multiple incident reports. I just...I don’t think enough is being done to keep them in line. Violence like this isn’t necessary.”

Gillen nodded, his brow furrowed in thought as he stared into his coffee rather than drink it. He leaned back in his chair with a huff. “I certainly can’t argue with your assessment. But the guards aren’t under my jurisdiction. Each and every active guard has passed routine psychological evaluations declaring them fit for duty. On paper, these sorts of incidents shouldn’t be so common. Even so, submitting an official inquiry won’t solve anything. It’s a lengthy process that, at most, will point fingers at a few violent upstarts and have them terminated. In the meantime they won’t have any reason to put up a venir of obeying their mandate. If anything a formal complaint to their chain of command will only make things worse. Anything we _can_ do should be taken with care. I have reach, certainly, but that doesn’t guarantee a positive outcome.”

Tenma opened his mouth to protest, then rammed it shut again with a tense expression. He stared down at the coffee he had neglected. By now it had reached room temperature. He took a sip of it, finding comfort in the bitter, lukewarm, unforgiving taste of it in his mouth. With a grimace, he stared at the folder he’d brought, realizing it wasn’t going to do him any good to provide evidence for something the both of them knew was happening. Not when he knew Gillen was right, that an inquiry...that it was only going to make the guards more agitated, only going to hurt the SCPs more, in the long run. And while increased aggressiveness could get the attention of the facility heads, having the guards terminated for their trouble wasn’t...ideal, either. Because it meant more training of new recruits, less experienced guards, leading to more accidental problems in the future.

Tenma thought for a moment, flipping the folder open, eyes zeroing in on the 10-digit code identifying one of the guards. He knew this one by heart, knew what his voice sounded like, but he didn’t even know this man’s name, what he looked like, beyond the black mask he wore.

Tenma tapped the numbers with his index finger, glancing back up at Gillen tiredly. “Could you...would it be possible for you to justify validating the psychological evaluations of the guards found more commonly on issue reports? Or taking a look at the psychological evaluation process itself? If restructuring it would help reduce these incidents…”

He trailed off, not really looking up. He did hear what sounded like a curious hum from his superior, but didn’t let it stir his hopes. Not until Gillen said his piece, he’d hold out until then.

“It’s certainly been a while since the evaluation process has been properly analyzed. It causes significant inconvenience to the guards who are due for evaluation - as well as any newer trainees - so it’s rare that the facility requests an analysis like that. To be blunt, a few bad examples aren’t enough to reform an entire system that generally works - or that’s what they preach. But unnecessary loss of life and damage to Foundation property is serious when there are repeat offenders. It means something isn’t working for certain individuals, that they have atypical psychological responses to the tests. That said, I can’t arbitrarily decide to make those changes, even at my level. So, Tenma…”

He looked up, looked across the table at Gillen, who was now much more alert. He watched as the man jabbed a finger at the folder. “I’m assuming these are your findings. That’s good, but I need you to put a request into writing. We can have informal armchair discussions like this all we like; but if you want this to mean anything, I need that evidence to back my statement when I bring it up to the brass. I need facts and numbers, even a few IDs if you feel comfortable with that. Put it into writing and drop it into my mailbox. I’ll take care of the rest. And-”

Gillen’s eyes narrowed for a moment as he looked over Tenma, then he sighed. “Don’t...attach your name, when you make that submission. It’s better that this stays an anonymous request.”

Tenma didn’t need to ask why; he knew that he had a certain reputation that would devalue the impact of such a request for reform, even if it came from Gillen’s mouth. The medic smiled and straightened, collecting up the folder once more. He looked apologetically at the coffee he took one sip from and then glanced back to Gillen.

“In that case...I’ll get on it now, while I have some time. Doctor Gillen…” Tenma let a warmer smile light his features as he bowed hurriedly, straightening stiffly. “Thank you. Really.”

Gillen seemed to soften for a moment, muttering a quiet _It’s nothing._ But before Tenma could really register it, the man was clearing his throat, turning away with a slgiht stiffness, almost sheepish as he commented on some sort of reports he had to return to. Tenma just smiled as he left. Gillen was...coolly professional, but even he had a kinder part to him, something that he felt the need to bury, when it showed itself. Tenma couldn’t blame him very much. The Foundation saw even the slightest emotional expression of something genuine as a thing to be stamped out.

He headed back into the grim, grey hall, his folder tucked neatly under his arm, secured close to his side. Tenma had three hours before his next patient, unless there was an emergency dispatch he had to answer; the sooner he got back to his room the sooner he could put together something for Gillen to work with. It really was lucky that Gillen seemed to like him decently well; ordinarily, even writing up this sort of report would have to go through his supervisor, _then_ to Gillen, who...probably had plenty of other requests in his mailbox to deal with. The fact that they were able to personally hash out a plan really helped, but...Tenma supposed he should feel bad. He really was taking advantage of Gillen’s nature. But if he didn’t, then...there was no telling how much longer the guards would keep up their-

Tenma’s thoughts ground to a halt as someone grabbed his shoulder roughly, stopping him in his tracks. He let out an involuntary squeak, his heart lurching up into his mouth as he tried to pull free, but the hand didn’t let go. He snapped his head around to demand they release him, and was met with the dark visor of one of the guards. Immediately Tenma stiffened, squaring up and setting his jaw, turning his face forward once more.

“Snitching back to your friend again, right? Sure seems like you do that a lot.”

What started as fear became cold defiance, when he heard the sound of that voice. It was _that_ voice, perfectly etched into his mind, held in contempt and...with a certain amount of wariness. Tenma narrowed his eyes but stayed as he was, staring ahead. He forced himself to breathe slowly, not to tremble, even though this was someone he wanted to be far, far away from right at this moment.

“If you’d done your jobs correctly and followed the procedures on her file, I wouldn’t have to.”

The hand on his shoulder still didn’t move. It felt weighted and threatening. There was a sound that was probably a laugh, distorted through the visor.

“ _Her?_ That language is pretty humanizing isn’t it, doc?”

Tenma gripped tighter to his folder, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He glared forward. “It’s not your concern. If my behaviour disturbs you, then you can file a complaint, too. Let go of my arm.”

It took a few moments - really not long at all, but it certainly felt that way as the seconds passed - but finally he felt when that hand removed itself from his shoulder. The weight was still there, as though some ghost of contact had stayed behind. Tenma took another deep breath and started on his way back toward his room, aware of the eyes burning holes into the back of his head, the chill feeling where that hand still seemed to be gripping him. He rolled his shoulder, exhaled heavily, and allowed himself to forget the encounter for now. He had work to do.

* * *

Very rarely was a plan as easy as it seemed. Not one that had been laid out so smoothly. Tenma had certainly held out hope, but...he supposed he should have known it wouldn’t be that simple.

He couldn’t be sure how long it was; a week, maybe more, he struggled to really keep track of time. Gillen's efforts had yet to receive results, with the directorial board "deliberating" over the information presented. Tenma still asked every day, and went to sleep fearing the worst. On the...sixth, seventh, eighth night, was awoken from his sleep with an alert - an emergency dispatch order. Bleary-eyed and barely conscious, he was able to discern that the subject was newly acquired. No number was assigned as of yet, but he’d been provided with what information was available: subject was male, humanoid but apparently incapable of linguistic communication. It was marked as easily agitated and credited with the violent murder of the two operatives responsible for its capture. Male subject was restrained with standard gear and awaiting urgent medical attention. 

Tenma was used to these sorts of patients. Knowing that he was entering a small, cramped room with someone who probably saw him as a threat and would kill him given the opportunity was something that didn’t faze him now. In the end, very rarely did the SCPs come willingly and...well...of course they would respond badly to someone confronting them, even a doctor. Tenma _still_ didn’t like the mandatory assignment of a guard; it ran the risk of agitating them even more. Even so, not even Gillen could make an appeal to remove that requirement. Ultimately, Tenma _understood_ why they were needed. After all, it would be quick and easy to kill an unaccompanied medic. The guards were there to protect their charges; they were quick to recognize signs of aggression and respond with due process to keep the medics alive. That was _their_ job. It just happened that Tenma didn’t like their methods very much.

The two guards he’d been assigned were waiting at the heavy doors leading into the patient’s temporary containment unit. Tenma heaved his medical bag over his shoulder, reaching into his coat pocket to pull his card, looking between the two guards as he swiped, stepping into the corridor that split the containment unit from the main hallway. One more door. He stepped forward, stopping only when one of the guards eased in front of him, glancing back with that opaque black visor.

“Better let us take the lead, doc. Just in case.”

Tenma’s stomach twisted at the sound of that voice. Out of everyone he could have been assigned, of _course_ it had to be him. A part of Tenma was annoyed - bothered that Gillen hadn’t been able to at least have this and the other aggressives temporarily pulled from work, but he knew that was asking for too much, too soon. Gillen could only do so much at once. So for now...Tenma turned his focus on the task at hand. At treating his patient, and then getting out. For now it was best to cooperate.

“All right.”

He spoke brusquely, swiping his card and allowing the guard to enter first. To his credit, the man didn’t draw his weapon right away; that seemed to be a recurring complaint, so perhaps he was trying to at least prove that he could be trusted not to act with unnecessary threat. 

Tenma followed in next, slowly lowering the bag from his shoulder. He smiled toward his patient, his heart panging with sympathy, having to see him chained that way. Even so, he at least understood why. There was still blood under his patient’s nails where he must have clawed at his attackers. Tenma wondered just what his new patient was capable of, that he’d killed two men. Slowly, the doctor took a deep breath, crouching down onto one knee, getting onto the man’s level. He smiled.

“It’s all right. I’m a doctor.” He knew from the file that his patient couldn’t communicate with speech, but it was possible that he could still understand it. Tenma had to at least work with that. He glanced back toward the two guards. One stood in front of the door, the other was just a few feet behind Tenma. He smiled back toward his patient.

“Don’t be afraid. They’re here to protect me, if something goes wrong. I’m hoping that you’ll be willing to work with me. I just want to see you get better.”

There was no indication that his words were understood, but it also didn’t look like the man was...any more anxious than he was before. Tenma didn’t look away as he reached toward his bag, tugging on the zipper to open it. That sound definitely made his patient tense, shoulders going up, jaw squared into an unpleasant grimace that Tenma could only see from the corner of his eye. He was quick to stop, and raised one hand placatingly, letting go of the bag.

“It’s all right. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you, this is just...this is where I keep the medicine. To make you better.”

At the very least, talking to him did make his patient relax a little. Once again, Tenma reached toward the bag. There was a little tension again, but this time his patient didn’t seem quite so stressed by it. Tenma pulled out a cloth and a bottle with cleansing fluid. He held both up, letting the man see them both clearly. Nothing sharp, nothing that would hurt. He nodded slowly, and his patient...nodded back, with a small gesture of his head. It was a good start. Maybe...maybe he could use body language to communicate, then, if words weren’t working.

Staying low, he eased his way forward slowly. It was clear his patient wasn’t...comfortable, exactly, with him coming closer, but there was no attempt to struggle against his restraints either. Tenma nodded again, encouraging, stopping once he was within arm’s reach. He supposed he should’ve felt more nervous, but after months of experiences like this, he couldn’t find it in himself to be nervous this close to someone that could easily kill him.

He uncapped the bottle, generously soaking the cloth. He turned his face back toward his patient, noting that the most severe injuries were to the arms and face. Tenma took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he lifted the cloth up, meeting his patient’s gaze.

“This is going to sting. But it’s going to make you feel better, afterward.”

Tenma moved slowly with the cloth, going for one of the uglier gashes along the upper right arm. He lay the cloth on the wound, taking a slow, deep breath and counting down. The man visibly tensed and tried to pull away, but Tenma kept a hand firmly on his shoulder, preventing him from leaning back. He was clearly distressed, though, by the quickened breathing and the way he shifted, shackles clinking. The man only seemed to relax once Tenma moved away, and even then, he looked guarded. Tenma sighed.

“It’s all right. I know it hurts, but you’ll feel better afterward. It’s going to help you heal faster.” He took the bottle again, adding a little more to the cloth. “You’ll have to bear with it for now. There-”

_”-octor, watch out!”_

The warning call came too late. Tenma’s gaze was on the bottle as he set it down again; he hadn’t even noticed as his patient shifted forward. He heard the loud, metallic ringing as the chains between his patient’s wrists broke, but before he could so much as shift to get out of the way, there was an arm around his throat, the other wrapping around his middle, both crushing.

Tenma immediately let go of the soaked cloth, slackening his body, but it seemed that wasn’t enough to calm his patient now. And looking out toward the two guards...it was no wonder. Both had their weapons drawn now, with one pointing it directly at Tenma and his patient. He felt a chill down his spine and struggled, fought for breath. Fought desperately for words.

“I can….I can still….please, don’t shoot.”

What could he do like this? He could barely speak. But he needed those guards to stow away those weapons. Maybe then he could do something. But even so...while one stayed back with his gun pointed toward the ground, the other advanced, his movements stalking. Tenma felt the grip at his throat tighten, as though his patient somehow thought that threatening Tenma’s life could help somehow, as though the guards would let him leave if he had Tenma as a hostage.

“Having difficulty getting a good shot. You’re in the way, doc. Try to shift down if you can.”

Tenma shook his head vehemently. Not only was it impossible for him to move, he absolutely couldn’t justify it. Moving...moving so that his patient could be shot, _killed,_ that was something he absolutely wouldn’t do, even if he could. But as he struggled to speak again, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. His vision was starting to swim. He couldn’t breathe like this. But he saw it, when the guard adjusted his hold on the gun. When he held it more firmly and took aim.

Tenma wheezed out a pained, desperate sound that amounted to nothing. He just stared at the man, pleading with his eyes, looking into a blank mask.

“Nothing I can do about it. I have to take the shot.”

Tenma’s mouth opened as he tried one more time to call out to the guard. In turn, the guard hefted his weapon a little higher.

He pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeskip! Richter died!!!! Rip to that guy we hardly knew ye. Probably got killed in an incident with an SCP but he didn't matter enough for me to write it lmao
> 
> Tenma is just having a super bad time. Doing the morally right thing has gotten him hurt twice now :(
> 
> Also unsaid anywhere in the fic but the nasty guard is Roberto. :/ In this au he came from the same place as Grimmer (and Johan) but doesn't exhibit any anomalous characteristics. So the Foundation sought him out to be muscle so they could keep an eye on him just in case that changes. Which unfortunately means he can get away with worse stuff because the Foundation is interested in keeping him around.


	8. Compromised

“He’s awake now, if you want to go see him.”

Gillen should have felt glad to hear those words. Instead he was just numbed by them, as he nodded and headed inside the cold grey room. The room where Tenma was, now.

In the beginning, Gillen had thought that Tenma was a lost cause. He had expected that the newfledged doctor might even lose himself within the first two months, if not die outright. But when that became a real possibility, Gillen...rejected even the idea of it. He was so tremendously opposed to merely the _notion_ of Tenma’s death. 

Of course, it was more than just that. Tenma was someone who...got in. Who crept somehow into a place he didn’t belong, settled neatly in with Gillen’s emotions. It was terribly dangerous, to expose something so warm to colleagues in the Foundation. This was not a place for warm things to grow. He had always been good at it, at keeping a professional distance, but this troublesome doctor had somehow…

Thoughts ground to a halt when Tenma came into view. He looked so stiff, lying there in that cold room. The wound was covered with gauze and bandages, wrapped from shoulder across his chest. He could see dark bruising around Tenma’s throat. Gillen had been briefed on the report; the subject had broken loose and tried to kill the medic. Unable to get a clear distinguishing shot, the guard had no choice but to shoot through Tenma. Had the shot been any further to the right, Gillen would be disposing of a corpse. 

The medic looked utterly miserable, something that Gillen’s presence surely wouldn’t alleviate. All the same, he sat himself down beside Tenma, eyes narrow and nervous as he looked over the man. Tenma blinked up at him, nodding to at least show he recognized Gillen’s presence. He didn’t even attempt a smile, but Gillen could hardly expect him to, right now. His gaze fell and he found himself moving without thought, placing his palm over Tenma’s hand. The gesture seemed to surprise Tenma, but not in a way that he seemed afraid.

“The guard who shot you has been placed on temporary leave and is due to be investigated properly. I’m...only sorry that this is what it took for them to take it seriously.”

Tenma slowly turned his head, looking up at Gillen with those exhausted eyes of his. There was something pleading in them, something that begged for an answer he already knew he couldn’t give. The hand shifted beneath Gillen’s touch, relaxing and flattening against his body.

“My patient.”

Gillen wanted to look away, but didn’t. He heaved a sigh, his expression betraying...something, enough that Tenma was already deflating, those eyes desperate and aching. His body tensed, almost as though he hoped Gillen wouldn’t say anything, but to do so was...a disservice. Even if it would hurt him, Tenma deserved the truth.

“I’m sorry.”

No more need be said than that, and once again Tenma was back to his miserable exhaustion, eyes closing, body limp. At this point, Gillen might as well not even be present; Tenma had altogether shut down. But that was something that Gillen...couldn’t really blame him for, right now. Not after what he’d seen, and knowing that his patient hadn’t survived the encounter. Even so, Gillen didn’t leave just yet. He gave Tenma’s hand a light squeeze.

“The doctors said that...the wound will heal quickly enough, as long as you take your medication regularly. But the damaged nerves...it might take several months, before they heal. After you’re discharged, I’m going to be taking you off of active duty for a while. And in order to help the recov-”

_”No.”_

The strength behind Tenma’s voice was surprising, as was the sudden, firm grip to Gillen’s hand. He blinked, startled, watching as Tenma stared at him with those wide, pleading eyes. That hand squeezed back, though it was a bit weak.

“When I’m declared fit to return, I...I want to. Right away. I’ll take medication, if I have to.” He tensed his jaw, taking a shaky breath. It looked almost like he wanted to cry, but he kept those roiling emotions inside him for now, shaking his head. “I have to return. As soon as I’m able, I need to get back to work. I can’t stand...the idea that my patients…I don’t know who’ll be caring for them. They...don’t know anyone else. If it isn’t me...if I return and one of them died, I...”

Tenma trailed off, but he had made his point very well known. It...wasn’t a pleasant thought, the idea that Tenma was so obsessed with caring for his patients that he would put his own health at risk. It absolutely wasn’t a healthy development he’d made, but trying to fight it right now was even less wise. So, Gillen just nodded.

“All right. With the stipulation that if it’s too taxing, you’ll report it to me and we’ll work on a way to let you heal without completely letting go of your work. Whatever that might mean. You can’t let yourself degrade, or you’ll be of no help to your patients.”

Tenma drew in a reedy breath and let it out slowly, nodding his head, lashes fluttering closed as he just...breathed, for a moment. He seemed relaxed now that Gillen wasn’t trying to forcibly keep him from his job in the eventuality that he recovered. But he was still troubled, still anxious. The hand that had gripped so forcibly to Gillen’s relaxed again, the phantom of feeling still bristling Gillen’s wrist.

“Can...in the meantime, could you…” He paused, then grimaced. “Ah...no.”

Tenma seemed to have some sort of idea in mind, but hesitated in the last moment, shutting himself down before the words got out. He’d closed his eyes again, sheepish, clearly a little flustered that he’d started to ask for...whatever it was. Gillen’s hand twitched, sparked by the briefest of urges, but then it was his turn to shut it down, because…

Because in no way was it an appropriate thought, an appropriate action, from Tenma’s superior. 

His hand, his shoulder...it was one thing to incite contact there, to comfort an acquaintance. Touching his face...that was something reserved for friends, for individuals truly trusted by one another. Gillen quashed the thought before it took root and simply cleared his throat instead.

“Ask your question. I’ll..let you know if it’s asking too much of me. Don’t worry about it.”

Tenma looked away, that sheepish creep of red blossoming on his face for a few seconds, before he exhaled and turned back toward Gillen again, the pink receding to just the tips of his ears. 

“I’m sorry. I know I ask a lot of you. It’s not right.” He preceded his ask with a nervous apology, which Gillen answered with a huff and a shrug. Tenma’s eyes softened again, vulnerable as Gillen looked into them. That tiny urge was back whispering again, and he blinked his eyes shut until he felt he was ready to receive such an unguarded gaze. He nodded for Tenma to continue.

“I just want to know who will be taking over treating my patients. If it’s not too much to ask of you...I want to see who gets assigned, and sign off on it myself. That might not be possible, I would understand that. But if you could at least tell me their names...I’d be grateful.”

Gillen thought for a moment, pondering how difficult it would be to allow Tenma to approve the reassignment. He supposed that he could always do it in Tenma’s behest, and allow him to make the judgement call himself with Gillen simply acting as the so-called signoff authority. He sat back in his chair, hands clasped neatly in his lap now, a safer place for them to be.

“I can get you their names, that won’t be a problem.” He gave Tenma the easy one first. “I can’t promise you the other part, but I’ll do what I can. I’ll let you know.”

Despite everything, there it was - that one small thing, a gentle smile on Tenma’s lips. It was tired, it was terribly sad, but it still held the warmth of gratitude, for the few precious seconds that it lasted. 

“Thank you. Gillen...Rudi, I really…”

Once again Tenma trailed off, his lashes fluttering, eyelids growing heavy as he tilted his head into his pillow, fighting a soft yawn that eked its way from his throat, a truly delicate sound despite itself. Gillen felt a smile twitch at his lips, a strange thing that felt so foreign, even now.

“I said don’t worry about it.” The words were brusque but his tone was warmer this time, softened under Tenma’s light smile. “But you look tired. After all you’ve been through in a day...you should get some rest.”

Tenma’s face fell a little, but he kept it somewhat neutral, if a little solemn. Sleep was probably the furthest thing from Tenma’s mind, but he nodded all the same, letting his eyes slip closed again. 

“I really do appreciate it. What you do for me.”

The last words came softly, like a secret, sleepy admission. Gillen could only shake his head and sigh, slowly standing from his seat. For a few seconds he watched Tenma. How small he seemed like this, the way he moved, the wince as his injured side twitched. Perhaps it was worth bringing Tenma the names of the doctors taking over in his stead just to...just to see him, to see how he was progressing in his recovery.

“How many times do I have to tell him not to worry about it…” He chuckled softly, soft enough that Tenma hopefully wouldn’t hear. Gillen’s remark was more to himself than to the medic, as he took one last look at the man and headed back toward the door.

It only felt safe to breathe once he was finally outside, staring at the same gray halls that he’d grown accustomed to. Such a heavy weight had fallen onto his shoulders in that room, settled in his hands. And something, something else...something was still coiled there, in his mind. Something that wouldn’t let him go, even now.

Gillen made his way toward his office, then doubled back and headed to his room instead. He shouldered out of his jacket and hung it on its hook, but the weight was still there on his shoulders, blanketing if not outright suffocating. He headed into the bathroom and splashed his face with water. Still tired, even after that. 

Tenma had become an oddity in his life. A curiosity at first, that was definitely true. His behaviour was so atypical to the Foundation that it was baffling for him to have survived its harshness for more than a month. But ever since that _incident,_ with 5110...that was when it became cloudy, uncertain. Tenma had disobeyed orders, but it felt worse than it should have. There was a personal quality to it, that _he_ himself had been betrayed by Tenma’s actions, not just the Foundation. He should have known even then that something was wrong, that there was something about Tenma that had rubbed onto him.

It took seeing the medic breaking down, collapsing in such a state of wrenching terror for Gillen to really...to _notice,_ that his feelings toward the medic were irregular. At the time he had ignored them - covered them up with believable falsities: that he was so concerned strictly because he had been the one to bring Tenma into the Foundation. But even then, even back then it had been there, this… _feeling._ It was nothing back then, barely visible. But he still could have killed it, then. Instead, he’d ignored it, denied its existence and allowed it to fester. Now...

He really did have to admit...if only to himself, that Tenma…

That perhaps some part of him...liked Tenma, after all.

 _Like_...it was such a passive word, but there wasn’t a better one he could think of. It wasn’t strong enough to be called anything more than that. But even _like_ wasn’t something to be taken lightly, when such a genuinely human connection was so...alien, in the Foundation. To feel anything more than passing camaraderie was unheard of. To have become infatuated, even in only the gentlest of ways…

And to someone who reported to him, no less. Even if he wanted to pursue it, just to put his heart to rest, that was a line best not crossed. Even _if_ Tenma were to feel the same, as doubtful as that was, the reality was that Gillen held Tenma’s life in his hand. He could make an immediate recommendation that Tenma was not worth the medical resources to save. Could have him committed to research, or transferred, or terminated outright. The difference in power was...unthinkable, even if there was a shared feeling.

Gillen scowled tiredly into the mirror, shaking his head at the miserable man that stared back. For him to have caught such a dangerous feeling...he really had let down his guard too much. 

He hoped for his own sake that he could kill it before it became an infestation of his heart, before it really did become a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it!!! I wanted to end the fic at the point where Gillen and Tenma have a decent rapport but also Gillen is struggling with the realization "oh oops I like him" lmao. This is still a few months prior to the point of the RP starting; by then Tenma's decently on his way healing from the shoulder wound (and is back on duty proper) and also Grimmer would've just been captured as a new SCP in the Foundation.
> 
> I may write a second part from Grimmer's POV that catches the rest of the prologue because he certainly has a story worth exploring.
> 
> But yes I hope you all enjoy this messy AU! Tenma deserved better.


End file.
